


hold me in this wild, wild world

by dreamer89



Series: slytherin goals [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, BAMF Astoria Greengrass, Canon Compliant, Childfree Characters, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Post-War, Redemption, Relationship Goals, Self-Acceptance, Slytherin Pride, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Trauma, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21563551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer89/pseuds/dreamer89
Summary: A glimpse into the lives of seven Slytherins from 1998 onwards...whoever said love and loyalty were reserved for the children of the Light side was dead wrong.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass/Theodore Nott, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Charlie Weasley
Series: slytherin goals [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601380
Comments: 27
Kudos: 93





	1. Tracey

**1998**

The first one to approach the group of captured Death Eaters at the back of the Great Hall was Tracey Davis. She stormed through the entrance, green eyes blazing, pulling a folded up piece of paper out of her pocket. Her parents pushed to the front, but Tracey cast a silencing charm before they could speak a single word.

“After we were sent out of the castle, I went home. I should have known you’d already be gone,” she said bitterly. “You forgot to lock the drawer in the desk. That’s when I found this.” Tracey blinked rapidly to keep her eyes from glassing over as she unfolded the paper. “Tracey Claire Wilson born November 16, 1979 in Kensington, London. Father: accountant. Mother: solicitor.” The Davises refused to meet their daughter’s gaze. That’s when the full reality hit Tracey.

“Oh Merlin, this whole thing was illegal, wasn’t it? You were trying for years to have your own, but it never happened. So you seized an opportunity _.”_ She turned away for a moment to wipe roughly at her eyes, then turned back with her wand out. “I’m going to ask you one question. You will nod or shake your head. Then you will never contact me again.” She took a deep breath.

“Are my parents alive?” Mrs. Davis slowly nodded, tears silently streaming down her face. 

Tracey turned her back once more and walked away, shoulders back and head held high. She strode over to the Gryffindor table, where Oliver Wood sat holding Marcus Flint’s hand (she’d file that one away for another day) surrounded by others she vaguely remembered as students in years ahead of hers. She slammed the birth certificate down on the table. 

“My entire life has been a lie,” she said, grabbing Flint’s mug of black coffee and taking a long sip. “I think I need to go to Muggle London now. What is a solicitor? What do I wear? What the fuck does W8 5UF mean?” 

The Gryffindors stared at her in shock. Flint drew a flask from his robes and topped off Tracey’s mug with a generous helping of firewhisky.

“Thank you Marcus.” Tracey took another long sip. And another.

Alicia Spinnet spoke up, finally. “If you cause a scene in London, that will be on us, and I am not about to do that to my lovely city. So sit down and we will sort this out.” They made room on the bench and Tracey squeezed in between Alicia and Angelina Johnson. She took a shuddering breath. And then the dam burst. For the first time ever in this castle, Tracey Davis, _never flustered, never fazed,_ put her head in her hands and cried.

**2004**

The day Tracey graduated from university, she saw a tabby cat on the pavement outside her flat that didn’t quite seem to belong. She cleared her throat and inclined her head to the right, and the cat followed her into the back garden. 

“Mum owled you, didn’t she,” Tracey said as soon as the figure of Minerva McGonagall materialized.

“It’s not every day that a Hogwarts alumna reads Mathematics at Oxford and is published in the _Annals of Arithmancy_ at the same time.”

“Fair play,” said Tracey, adjusting the black ribbon tied around her neck. She would never tell her classmates, but she liked wearing sub fusc--kind of made her feel at home. 

Tracey’s mum and dad, altogether different from _Mother_ and _Father_ , were thrilled about her interest in Arithmancy. To be honest, they probably would have been ecstatic if Tracey had announced a desire to go hunt for Nargles or join the circus, and that was another thing about her life now that Tracey didn’t want to admit she really, really liked. They didn’t know a thing about magical subjects but her dad went out and bought half of Waterstones’s maths section the same day she brought up the topic. Tracey was fascinated by how the Muggle theorems and proofs interacted with magical axioms--and she also noticed some gaps. Naturally, as an ambitious Slytherin, she knew what to do next.

“While of course I wish to offer my congratulations, I do have another reason for dropping by,” McGonagall said. “I am terribly sad to say that Professor Vector has died, but we must now fill the vacancy post haste.”

“Professor Wilson has a nice ring to it,” Tracey agreed, and made zero effort to conceal her wide grin.


	2. Theo

**1998**

Theodore Nott sprinted into the Great Hall, Blaise Zabini hot on his heels. Theo had his wand at his father’s throat before the Aurors could even make a move--as if they had any real interest in protecting Nott Senior.

“Why her? Why Daph? Wasn’t enough to hurt me for all those years, you had to have a go at her?” Theo shouted. 

“Stupid boy, the curse wasn’t for her, it was for you. That little bitch was just collateral damage.”

Theo became even more incensed, shoving his father against the stone walls. 

“Mate, you don’t want to do this,” Zabini interjected. “You’re not like him. You’ll never be like him. It’s over now.” 

“He fucking killed my mother!” Theo screamed. “And he ensured my silence.” The teenager turned back to his father, and continued in an anguished shout, “You kept me quiet about a hell of a lot. You want me to tell them about the whips you have in your study?” 

“Save your pathetic tears for your mother’s grave.” 

Theo’s wand hand started to shake.

Just then, Williamson put a hand on Theo’s shoulder. The teenager flinched, then relaxed into the kind touch as the Auror talked to him in a low, soothing voice. Zabini went to Theo’s other side and gently pushed the wand down. Williamson guided Theo towards the center of the Great Hall, where Daphne Greengrass was waiting for him. Blaise flashed Nott Senior the V-sign and took a few steps away, then pivoted back. He reared his arm back and punched Theo’s father in the face. Auror Savage looked up from studying her nails and shot Zabini’s bloodied knuckles a nonverbal healing spell. Blaise smirked and walked towards his Slytherin friends, the only _real_ family ever had.

**1999**

A warm breeze drifted through the trees as a crowd of students gathered by the dock. Astoria, Draco’s arm protectively around her, was laughing at Pansy for bringing a cup of Earl Grey with her, complete with saucer. “You people interrupted my tea break,” she said haughtily. “Also, Blaise said we couldn’t bring out the liquor until later.” The two girls shared a knowing smile. 

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Blaise Zabini’s voice echoed, “let us gather now to witness the dangers of making bets in the not very noble but upwardly mobile House of Slytherin!” 

“Can you not?” Theo retorted, standing on the edge of the dock in only his boxers, arms crossed. 

Blaise continued, undaunted. “Let it be known that on 6 June, 1998, Theodore Nott said, and I quote, ‘if they let us go back to Hogwarts and graduate, I’ll jump in the Black Lake.’ Our participation in tomorrow’s ceremony cemented, the time has come for Theodore to proceed with his end of the bargain.”

“Fine, fine, stop being so dramatic,” Theo grumbled. He looked out at the surface of the water, hoping the squid would make itself scarce today. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder and Daphne was suddenly there next to him, a mischievous expression on her face.

“Wait for me,” she signed. To Theo’s surprise, the blonde stripped down to a bra and _very_ tiny shorts. Theo definitely approved of that. Her left hand found his right one, and they intertwined almost reflexively. Theo lifted their hands up to the sky, the diamond ring on Daph’s finger shining brightly. He no longer cared about anyone seeing the scars on his back. They were proof that he had survived. With a running start, the couple leapt into the water. 


	3. Daphne

**1998**

It took all of ten seconds after Astoria’s charge into the fray for Daphne to go in after her, and if Daphne was going there was no way Theo wasn’t. They ran through the castle hand in hand, sending stunners towards Death Eaters and searching for any sign of Astoria. 

They had just turned a corner when Daphne saw Theo’s father in her peripheral vision. A burst of anger shot through her and she fired a stunning spell but missed. Theo tried to pull them out of sight but Daphne saw a flash of blue light and then her world exploded. A clanging metal sound seemed to engulf her and then...nothing. The battle raged on, but for Daphne there was only silence. 

“I can’t hear, Theo, I can’t hear! I can’t hear!” she screamed. Theo’s eyes were terrified and his lips were moving fast, but Daphne had no idea what he was saying. All the shouting must have drawn others’ attention, as Nott Senior was now dueling an Auror and no longer focused on his son. Daphne and Theo took off down the corridor when suddenly a small face popped out of a classroom door. She must have called out for Theo, as he led Daphne inside the classroom and quickly locked the door. 

The teenagers pushed a heavy table against the door frame and turned their attention to the girl cowering against the blackboard, arms around her knees. It was little Anya Rookwood, a first-year Slytherin. Theo started talking to her and picked up a piece of chalk. He wrote on the board, “Anya left behind in evac. Hid in library. Saw fighting. Mitya.” Theo shook his head and set the chalk down. It was enough for Daphne to understand. Anya’s brother Dmitri was twenty-one; had taken the Mark two years ago. She remembered him, even had a little crush on Mitya when she was about Anya’s age. That was before he became a killer, eyes of steel and heart of ice. Now he was dead. 

Daphne saw the girl’s face crumple, and she and Theo instinctively reached out to her.. They held Anya while she sobbed, still clutching their wands should anyone try to harm one of their smallest Slytherins. After what felt like ages, Theo’s head suddenly perked up. He must have heard something. Theo got up, pushed aside the table, and ever so slowly cracked open the door. He closed the door again and Daphne gasped, but then Theo leaned back against the door and the relief that swept over his features was one of the most beautiful things Daphne Greengrass had ever seen. He helped Daphne off the floor and then picked up Anya, balancing the petite eleven-year-old on his hip. Before they left the room, Daphne went to remove the girl’s green and silver tie, but she shook her head defiantly. Daphne choked back a sob and tried to pull herself together. 

The three Slytherins stepped out into the battle’s aftermath. Daphne felt something on her neck, and that’s when she realized her ears were dripping with blood. She must have looked a sight; no wonder everyone was letting them walk on by. In that moment, Daphne knew unequivocally that Theo’s father had done damage to her that could not be fixed. She didn’t know any deaf witches or wizards; what was she going to do now? In her younger Hogwarts years, she was desperate to fit in, and now it looked like her worst childhood fear was about to come true. Daphne looked up to see Blaise coming towards them from the opposite direction. As soon as he got close enough, worry swept over his face similar to how Theo had looked. 

“I’m deaf, but I’m alright. And I will be alright.” Daphne didn’t have to hear her own voice to know how strong it was. 

**2001**

Theo gently shook her awake, and Daphne opened her eyes to sunlight streaming through the window and her husband’s endearing smile. “Happy birthday, love,” he signed, and she pulled him close for a fervent kiss. Today she was twenty-one and their world was still at peace. She couldn’t say that they were the most popular couple in Wizarding society, far from it, but it was hard for Daphne to believe that she once cared so much about that kind of thing. 

The day after the battle, Madam Pince of all people had stomped over to Daphne and thrust a heavy book into her hands.  _ A Comprehensive Guide to British Sign Language _ , the title read. Daphne soon realized that it was a Muggle book, but Theo took it out of her grasp, mouthed “fuck it,” and opened to the first page. They had a lot of time on their hands that summer, so they dedicated themselves to learning as quickly as possible. Astoria and the rest of their friends-- _ family _ , really--joined in too. By the time they went back to Hogwarts, Daphne strong-armed into returning by Astoria and Theo, their group could have fully signed conversations at the Slytherin table. It drove the rest of the students mad that they could shit talk anyone they wanted at any time now, which was an added bonus for sure. 

The rest of the time, Daphne had to rely on magical accommodations that frequently fell short. But she was not going to give Theo’s father, or anyone else, the satisfaction of seeing her give up. So she designed better ways to make the Wizarding world work for her. In her everyday life now, Daphne used spells to caption speech in real time, to translate her combination of BSL and self-created signs for magical terms into spoken English, and to provide her with visual cues when she needed them. Daphne also poured extensive time into sharpening her nonverbal magic skills to avoid any mispronunciation issues. Astoria did some digging and found out that there was a Rosier who had become deaf as a child and was cast out of the family, sent away to live with an elderly Squib aunt. The Greengrass girls tracked her down and she introduced Daphne to the Deaf community in Muggle London. Her new Deaf friends thought Daphne was eccentric to say the least, but they liked her penchant for gossip and quick study of signs, so they taught her loads of colorful vocabulary her books didn’t cover. 

So it wasn’t all stress and strain; adapting to circumstances was true to Daphne’s Slytherin nature. Her situation did provide the unique experience of seeing  _ the  _ Draco Malfoy slag off Ron Weasley in BSL while pretending to interpret for her during Weasley’s guest lecture in Defence class. It was utterly magnificent. 

Daphne giggled to herself at that particular memory as she entered the foreboding institution, going through the security check and making her way to the visitors’ area. The Dementors might be gone, but the place was still eerie, dark, and freezing as fuck. She took a scarf out of her handbag and wound it around her neck while she waited. Finally, Theodore Nott Senior was escorted into the room on the other side of the glass partition. Daphne tapped her wand against the speaker in front of her. Nott’s lips started moving, but she didn’t bother with a captioning spell. Nor did she worry if her voice was too loud as she spoke.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you pulling the strings. If you send another threatening letter to Theo, I swear to Salazar I will  _ end _ you. You’ve already lost your supervised mail privileges indefinitely, and they’ll search your cell at the slightest suspicion. But this place will be nothing compared to what I will do if you try to hurt Theo again.” Daphne paused. “Also, you got the address wrong. It’s Mr. and  _ Mrs. _ Theodore Nott to you.” She narrowed her eyes at Theo’s father through the glass, then thinking of an eighteen-year-old Blaise, sent him a hand gesture she knew he could understand. 

A few hours later, Daphne opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron for what she thought would be a low-key drink with Theo to see the whole Slytherin crowd gathered around a table absolutely losing their minds when she entered the pub. She took the proffered pint of cider and raised it high in the air while her chosen family’s hands chanted her name sign. 


	4. Blaise

**1998**

Blaise couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this. Daph and Theo had gone over to the Healers’ triage area, and he felt very alone now despite all the people milling about the large hall. He reached the spot where Longbottom, Lovegood, Thomas and Finnegan were reclined, a mix of exhaustion and elation defining their features. Blaise cleared his throat to get their attention.

“I would like,” he said slowly, “to learn how to cast a Patronus.”

Neville’s face was incredulous. “Now? Why?”

“Reasons,” Blaise said dryly.

The three boys blinked at him, but Luna Lovegood’s airy voice asserted, “I’m sure you have the technique correct, but you need to focus on a happy memory.” 

“I’m supposed to just pull that out of my arse?” Blaise asked frustratingly, hearing Finnegan’s ensuing snort of laughter.

“Think back, Blaise,” Lovegood encouraged, “It’s in your heart, if you really search for it.”

Blaise closed his eyes, and suddenly an old memory came to the surface. His mother, long before one evening sherry turned into five, before the string of doomed stepfathers who never paid him any attention, before he had to pack his school trunk while she slept off another hangover well into the afternoon. Blaise was six, and his mother took him up onto the roof of the house one summer night. He lay there as his mother cuddled next to him and pointed out all the constellations in the sky, recounting to him the ancient stories that accompanied each collection of stars. Blaise found himself reciting the incantation and then opened one eye to see a silvery jaguar staring back at him. Taken aback that the spell had actually worked, Blaise forgot the bit that he had rehearsed earlier and what instead came out of his mouth was, “I’m gay. Deal with it.”

The jaguar seemed to acknowledge this and ran off leaving Blaise to face his once-declared enemies yet again. The five teenagers stared at one another for a few beats. Blaise saw Longbottom’s lips quivering before the boy finally gave into the loud laugh. Then the rest of them lost it too. “I’m probably being disowned as we speak,” Blaise said once he had recovered somewhat. 

“Wouldn’t it be worth it, if you can be who you are?” Luna asked softly. He met her eyes and smiled, before Astoria practically slammed into him with her eager embrace. 

“Alright, Zabini. Always knew you had it in you,” Draco said sidling up to Astoria. 

“No you didn’t,” Blaise retorted, causing more bursts of laughter. 

“We found alcohol in the kitchens,” Astoria said, showing off a bottle of wine while Draco took a drag from a handle of firewhisky. “Oh and Draco, I’ve been meaning to tell you, for the past few months I’ve been smoking pot in the Room of Requirement with Ginny Weasley and this one,” she said casually, gesturing towards Neville. At this, Draco spit out his firewhisky and Neville’s face lit up in amusement. 

“Is this real life? Have I been Confunded?” Dean wondered aloud, sending Seamus into another fit of giggles. 

Blaise noticed the fresh red mark on Draco’s cheek and could sense the tension starting to return between the two houses. “Don’t leave me hanging, you two. Show me the way to the alcohol before I get any more bloody sentimental,” he said to his friends. He turned to Longbottom. “Do you actually have weed though?” he inquired in a low voice. 

Neville rolled his eyes. “Find me later,” he said, resting back with his hands behind his head and easing into conversation with the other two Gryffindors.

**2020**

“I would certainly be happy to accompany you to dinner Saturday night. You can Side-Along me at eight, but you’ll have to come to a different address,” Blaise wrote. He paused, thinking about what to say next. The Daily Prophet’s love expert had written that honesty was crucial for relationships in her latest column, so Blaise decided to just put it all out there. “We’re staging an intervention for my widowed ex-Death Eater friend who has pushed us away in his grief and instead confided in the Potters, if you can believe it, that he is--quote--exceptionally lonely. What a shitshow. I’ll be awaiting your rescue.” He followed with Harry and Ginny’s address and signed his name with a characteristic flourish. 

This is how Blaise Zabini found himself perched on the arm of a sofa in Harry Potter’s living room, because apparently life’s just like that sometimes. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair facing down Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Daphne, Theo, Tracey, Pansy, Charlie Weasley (which was a whole other story in itself), and finally Blaise.

“Astoria was a brilliant, amazing woman and no one is telling you to replace or forget her. But, as we’ve all said here tonight, you are stuck with us so you  _ will _ accept our friendship and you  _ will  _ like it,” said Pansy. She reached into her purse and tossed something at Draco, which he easily caught with his Seeker’s reflexes. “I was going through old things the other day and I found these.” Draco held it up. The badge was a bit dented but still garishly flashed the words  _ POTTER STINKS _ . “Does that make you feel any better?” she asked.

“Mildly,” he answered.

Pansy smirked. “Right, so to the next topic: you need to stop being so obsessed with this ridiculous rumor about Scorpius because anyone worth their salt knows that child is yours. Not just because of the hair but because of what’s in his heart, so give it a fucking rest, you twat.”

Blaise smiled adoringly at his friend. Pansy always had a way with words. 

“Besides,” she continued, “loads of people think I’ve Imperius-ed Charlie into being with me and I don’t give a flying fuck.” She leaned her head against her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Daphne signed and a synthetic voice emitted from the tip of her wand. “I may not hear what people say to Theo on the street, but I still get the gist.”

“Despite what that beetle Skeeter published, I did not seduce Viktor Krum with a love potion,  _ Pansy _ ,” another voice chimed in. Pansy sheepishly put a hand over her brow to hide from Hermione’s pointed look.

“Ahaha, I forgot about that one,” chuckled Ron, who was then playfully smacked on the arm by his wife.

“Luna’s a sweetheart, but I can assure you my godfather was not Stubby Boardman in disguise,” added Harry, causing the room to break out into laughter. 

A moment later there was a knock at the door. Blaise stood up, putting on his coat. “My knight in shining armour awaits. As always, it’s been real.” He pointed at Draco. “See you at the farmers market tomorrow.”

The date went well that night,  _ very _ well actually. The feeling must have been mutual since Blaise was summoned to the Ministry lobby on Monday for a delivery of a dozen red roses plus a card that read: “I had a lovely evening. Been thinking about doing some more Unspeakable things with you next time -Kieran xx”

Blaise kept his expression unreadable as he made his way back to his workstation at the Department of Mysteries. “I am a sentimental fool,” he said to Theo, pausing for a fist-bump before filling a flask with water for an impromptu vase. 


	5. Pansy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all love my Slytherin crew as much as I do. If so, let me know! I’m working on a few more chapters to be posted soon.

**1998**

Pansy stared up at the ceiling from where she lay on one of the tables of the Hog’s Head. The place was deserted now, students all evacuated and incoming wizards having joined the battle raging in the castle. Even the weird barkeep was long gone.

Lately, Pansy only had two modes: angry or numb. She needed control and order amidst this ebb and flow of emotions. Pansy dove deep into a distraction she had long perfected, restricting to ensure she could feel the hard corners where her hips jutted out and the deep recessions on either side of her collarbones. It wasn’t like McGonagall cared. Or the Carrows either.

Pansy remained alone in the Hog’s Head until she looked through the pub’s dirty window and saw the sun beginning to rise over the castle. Everything was still--too still--that Pansy knew one side had prevailed. The lack of the Dark Mark in the sky told her the outcome.

Her plan was to sneak into the Slytherin dorms under a Disillusionment charm, grab her things, and take off to Merlin knows where. That’s when she discovered the lifeless bodies of Greg and Millie in the common room, wands at their temples, eyes open but unfocused. The scene was so similar to the day nine-year-old Pansy found her mother dead in their sitting room. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. Then she took off running.

All of Pansy’s carefully practiced control and restraint was gone by the time she threw off the Disillusionment charm in the Great Hall, facing the mass of captured Death Eaters.

“We grew up being told to prove ourselves worthy,” she roared, angry tears falling fast. “Yet you all were so cowardly as to leave us behind, to serve  _ him _ .” Pansy hugged her arms around herself. “Greg and Millie offed themselves; who knows if the rest of my friends are still alive.  _ Where were you?”  _

She caught sight of the younger Avery leering at her and before she knew it the words were out of her mouth. “Don’t you dare look at me, you rapist!” The nineteen-year-old started to come at her, but an Auror quickly Stunned him back.

Pansy blanched, and took several steps backwards before bumping into a tall woman with a piercing gaze. Hestia Jones spun her around and took both her hands in hers.

“I was seventeen when it happened. I didn’t tell anyone for years.”

Pansy’s eyes widened.

“I could use a cup of tea right now, how about yourself?” Hestia asked. Pansy nodded, and squared her shoulders. Maybe she could be brave.

**2007**

Of all the embarrassing lows in Pansy’s twenties, of which there were several, hiding out in Ginny Weasley’s childhood bedroom certainly topped the list. “It’ll be fine, he said. No one will notice, he said,” she muttered angrily. 

She had insisted to Charlie that Christmas with his family was never going to happen, but she also wanted to get laid and may have been the tiniest bit lonely, so a plan was hatched. He snuck her in through the window of the downstairs toilet, however they made the crucial mistake of forgetting the silencing spellwork.

Charlie laughed too loudly at a sarcastic quip of Pansy’s and the door was thrust open, giving the entire Weasley family a view of Pansy perched on top of the sink, legs wrapped around the waist of a shirtless Charlie. “Occupied,” she said weakly.

While Charlie sputtered to explain, Pansy legged it up the stairs and into the first bedroom she found, which just had to be Ginny’s given the Harpies posters on the wall and the lilac duvet on the bed.

Pansy was jolted out of the memory by the sound of a knock at the door. “Those who are about to die, salute you,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. Contrary to her self-preservation instincts, she opened it to find George Weasley on the other side. He pushed himself over the threshold before she could close the door again.

“You can stay, you know,” he said.

Pansy scoffed. “So I can make even more of a mess of things? I’m sure your mum is over the moon that Charlie’s mysterious girlfriend turned out to be Slytherin scum.” Pansy swallowed. “Like she hasn’t suffered enough heartbreak already,” she said in a small voice.

“It’s not your fault, Pansy.”

“I’ve been ruining the lives of people around me since birth,” she responded, surprised at her candor.

“Pansy. Look at me. You are not to blame for your mum’s death. You are not to blame for the deaths in the War. I blamed myself for Fred, for years. Sometimes terrible things happen to the people we love. We’ve got to keep on loving them, and we’ve got to learn to love ourselves too.”

Hot tears ran down Pansy’s cheeks, and George was sniffling as well.

He cleared his throat. “Right, this has been Grief Counseling with George Weasley. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming, a.k.a. Christmas. Miss Parkinson, would you accompany me to the sitting room?” he asked, holding his arm out. 

Pansy fixed her eye makeup in the mirror and then took George’s arm primly.

“Well, Mum, you did say that the only thing catching Charlie’s eye was a Hungarian Horntail,” Bill teased as Pansy took a seat in a frayed armchair.

“As if, Weasley, I am  _ far _ more dangerous,” she retorted, and Charlie’s wide smile made the whole idea of Christmas much more bearable. 

The next year on Christmas Eve morning, Pansy spied Molly Weasley putting the finishing touches on a grey jumper with a large “P” in the centre. She immediately Disapparated, ugly cried in the toilet of the Leaky Cauldron, then went out and bought Arthur an iPhone and Molly a rare, autographed copy of Celestina Warbeck’s first record. She then maxed out her Gringotts credit account on gifts for the rest of the family.

“Gifts are her love language,” Charlie explained sagely to the group that night. Pansy rolled her eyes, then gracefully shoved him under the mistletoe.


	6. Astoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Astoria and I want to give her so much detail so she won't be defined by her tragic death.

**1998**

Despite all the noise, Draco was nearly asleep in the vestibule outside the Great Hall when a Ravenclaw he didn’t know snapped him out of it.

“Oi, Malfoy! Greengrass is off her face in there. Someone needs to collect her.”

He entered the hall to see Astoria dancing on a table, blouse untucked with several buttons open and hair in a messy bun. She lost her footing briefly, caught herself, then shouted “Woooooo!” and finished off yet another bottle of wine. 

Somehow he managed to get her safely on the ground and out into the corridor where she decided to perform a rendition of some Muggle song that mostly consisted of scream-singing “I SAW THE SIGN” over and over again. 

When she stopped to catch her breath, Draco asked softly, “Are you alright, Astoria?”

She stilled. “Yes, Draco, I’m bloody fantastic! Life is just fucking wonderful!” she shrieked at him. Astoria threw the empty wine bottle to the ground, sending shattered glass all around her. He quickly repaired the damage and tossed the bottle into the bushes. 

Draco saw two figures coming towards them from the other end of the stone walkway. He let out an exasperated sigh when he realized who it was: Granger and Weasley. Astoria, unaware, proceeded with her drunken rant.

“My parents are dead,” she shouted, “who knows how long I have left, my sister’s deaf, I turn sixteen tomorrow, and I’m really fucking scared!” Astoria collapsed into sobs, but he caught her before she hit the ground. Draco sat against the wall and pulled her in close. 

Ron and Hermione awkwardly continued down the corridor. Draco looked up in acknowledgement of their amplified footsteps but before he could start to speak, Astoria stood up shakily whispering, “Oh Merlin, I’m gonna puke.”

“I’m sorry,” he said to the Gryffindors, brokenly. “For, well, for essentially the last seven years. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

“She would have done that if you were there or not,” Hermione said. “I survived. I won’t let her define me. You shouldn’t either.”

Draco jerked his head to the side to keep from crying only to see that Astoria had pulled the leg off of a suit of armour and was currently hurling into it. “Filch won’t be happy about that,” he said dryly.

“If you weren’t such a snobbish git, I might think you were funny sometimes,” Ron said.

“Sarcasm, dark humour, and excessive brooding. It’s how we cope in Slytherin.”

“Your whole house is bloody mental.”

Draco shrugged.

“Harry’s commandeered Gryffindor Tower so we can manage to get some rest. Bring her along. She can sleep it off in the common room,” Hermione said. 

Draco managed to coax Astoria into ditching the armour and half-carried her the rest of the way to the tower, laying her on her side on one of the common room’s sofas and gently stroking the girl’s brown hair. 

“You better look after her, Malfoy. She might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Hermione said to him before disappearing into the dormitories.

**1999**

Astoria arrived at Platform 9¾ by herself, having insisted to her friends that she wanted to board the train on her own this year. As the youngest, she was the only one of her little family of choice going back to school. She had showed up ridiculously early out of nerves, buzzing with caffeine from all the coffee she had this morning. Astoria knew how hard she had worked last year to catch up after the absolute disaster that was her fifth year, but she hadn’t thought it was enough to warrant her extra responsibilities now.

In late summer 1997, the Greengrasses had been involved in a freak Apparition accident, leaving their parents dead and Astoria in St. Mungo’s with minor injuries. It was there that the Healers discovered the blood curse. Astoria sat stonily in the pediatric ward next to a sobbing Daphne as the Healers tried to break the news as gently as possible.

With the Dark-controlled Ministry’s focus on more sinister pursuits and Astoria’s pureblood status, the usual guardianship proceedings were ignored. She was allowed to stay with Daphne, who had already come of age. The sisters returned to Hogwarts a few weeks later, where Daphne grieved quietly in Slytherin and Astoria went spectacularly off the rails.

She’d arrive at lessons late, if she bothered to come at all. She got ahold of large quantities of vodka from a Durmstrang acquaintance, and quickly became the most notorious party girl in the castle. She pulled Megan Jones one night, and then got in a fistfight with her the next. She cursed out Slughorn and trashed his office during their Career Advice session--a meltdown that she was later told rivaled one of Harry Potter’s. Astoria started sleeping with Draco Malfoy in December; they both wanted it rough back then. Afterwards, they’d hold each other when one of them cried and pretend like nothing happened in the morning.

Snape had no idea what the hell to do with her, and mostly kept his distance. None of the other professors were prepared to handle an unstable teenage girl with a Wizarding war looming on the horizon, and the Carrows gave up on her when her penchant for self-destruction made her dismal fodder for their games. Sure, they’d bring her down to the dungeons every so often, but it’s hard to get a satisfying reaction out of a fifteen-year-old who already knows she’s going to die young.

One night in March, a smashed Astoria had fallen on one of the staircases after curfew. Ginny Weasley took pity and hustled her into the Room of Requirement. She was surrounded by DA members, wands pointed directly at her should she try to do a runner, and sworn to secrecy. Astoria put an arm on Ginny’s shoulder and asked “So do you come here often?” slightly slurring her words but defusing the tension. 

Astoria became a regular visitor to the seventh floor, dissecting the pureblood nonsense she was raised with in conversations with the group and sometimes sharing a joint with Ginny and Neville when they needed a release. For a Muggle vice, marijuana was surprisingly great. It wasn’t quite friendship, but instead that strange camaraderie that often develops in the middle of a shitstorm. 

The morning she woke up in Gryffindor Tower two days after the Battle of Hogwarts, Astoria realized that she and Draco could actually have a future now. She wanted the chance to be the parents that they should have had. It was time to get her shit together and make the most of whatever time she had left.

Now she stood on the platform, listening to her favourite Cranberries CD on the Walkman Megan had given her as a parting gift when she graduated last year, trying to psych herself up for this. She had been so freaked out when getting her final Hogwarts letter that she owled Hermione Granger for advice. Granger was nice enough to send back an encouraging letter that made Astoria feel somewhat less like a total fraud. 

The train pulled into the station, and Astoria boarded. She took a deep breath and finally pinned the Head Girl badge to her robes. 


	7. Draco

**1998**

After a healthy amount of celebration, tears, and congratulations, Astoria curtsied to the group of DA members she had joined in the battle. “It’s been a pleasure,” she said, and went off searching for white-blond hair in the crowd.

She was a few feet away from the three Malfoys when Draco stood up. “No, I won’t go along with that. I won’t go back to that house unless it’s to burn it to the fucking ground,” he said fiercely. Lucius rose, towering over Draco. A loud crack echoed off the walls as he backhanded his son across the face, causing Draco to stumble back. There were gasps and murmurs, and Astoria noticed that even Arthur Weasley jumped to his feet. 

Draco averted his gaze to the floor submissively, and anger surged through Astoria.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she screamed. She placed herself in between father and son. “The war just ended, and this is how you’re acting? This isn’t pureblood culture, it’s bullshit. It ends now,” Astoria declared. 

“Everyone calm down this instant,” Kingsley Shacklebolt bellowed behind her. Astoria crossed her arms and continued to stare down Lucius defiantly. 

Draco reached for Astoria’s hand. “You can arrest me now, just take me somewhere else. I don’t want to deal with him right now,” he said to Shacklebolt in an exhausted voice. 

Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “Don’t leave the castle, don’t do anything stupid, and we’ll find you when we need to speak with you later.”

Draco blinked in surprise, but Astoria didn’t need to be told twice. She set off towards the entrance of the hall, Draco in tow.

Having witnessed the whole scene, Harry Potter followed in pursuit of the couple. He stopped in his tracks when he got to the elder Malfoys, though. “Er, thanks. I guess I owe you a life debt now,” he said to Narcissa. Her austere expression softened, and she gestured towards Draco’s receding figure. “It’s already paid,” she said. 

Harry nodded, leaving Narcissa the focus of quizzical looks and buzzing whispers. 

“I have to hear this one, Cissy,” Andromeda intoned from where she had been sitting, watching her sister for a long time unbeknownst to the younger Black daughter.

Narcissa smoothed her skirt and turned to her husband. “Do not speak for the foreseeable future,” she told Lucius sharply. He huffed in response, but obeyed. 

She gulped. “Well, you see, in the forest h-he..he said to check if the boy was dead…”

Harry walked away as Narcissa continued talking, breaking into a jog to catch up with Astoria and Draco.

“Shacklebolt said I could go for now,” Draco snapped, expecting Harry to stop him.

Harry shook his head. “That’s not what I wanted. Listen, I fixed my wand so, I guess this really belongs to you.” He held out the hawthorn wand, offering it back to Draco.

Draco looked at Harry, the wand, then back to Harry, trying to figure out what angle the Gryffindor was taking now.

“I saw what happened. It shouldn’t be my call to make if you can have a wand or not, but it’s yours now. Just don’t do anything stupid, like Kingsley said.”

Draco studied the floor. “He isn’t always like that, you know. They are what they are, but they’re still my parents,” he said quietly. Astoria’s heart twisted painfully at his words.

Harry nodded again. “You look like hell, Malfoy. Get some rest before we start to confuse you with the Bloody Baron.”

Astoria smiled. “Let’s find something to eat,” she said, leading him away from Potter and towards the kitchens. 

**2021**

Applause circulated through the chamber as the Wizengamot officially approved the proposed legislative measure. Draco’s lips quirked in satisfaction.

Scorpius hugged him, love and pride shining in his eyes. Draco was sure he’d be roped into another ridiculous celebration with the whole Weasley-Potter gang this evening, especially since he could never say no to his son’s pleas. 

For the last several months, Draco had been working closely with Hermione to draft a comprehensive law against abuse and neglect of Wizarding children. The Minister had been horrified when Draco pointed out just how flimsy the regulations were. The fiasco with Delphi and the Time-Turners had reminded Draco of how important it was to ensure that all children in the Wizarding world were properly looked after.

Draco threw himself into the work, impressing Hermione so much that he had to admit to her that he had come second only to her in marks during much of their time at school. “I knew Scorpius didn’t only get his brains from Astoria,” she told him and he nearly fell off his chair. 

“Hermione Granger just complimented me,” he said in disbelief. “Are we sure _this_ isn’t a parallel universe?”

Ron laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Never thought I’d see the day, but a lot of weird shit tends to happen when you hang around us.”

He was right, of course, but Draco had already accepted that he would forever remain in the Golden Trio’s orbit when he saw the way Scorpius and Albus looked at each other. 

The Wizengamot proceedings had been emotional, with Theo and Tracey among those who testified. Pansy, as a co-founder of the first Wizarding rape crisis centre, read several statements from those who didn’t want to address the assembly in person. At the last minute, Harry decided to speak, explaining the unusual circumstances that forced him to go back to the Dursleys’ in the summer but arguing that ultimately there should be no excuse for not providing refuge to any Hogwarts student. He talked about the memories of Snape’s that he witnessed, and the information he had learned about Tom Riddle’s childhood. That clinched it, and for as annoying as Potter’s fame was, Draco had to admit it was useful at times.

Daphne waved him over to where his Slytherin group was intermingling with Harry, Ron, and all of the usual Gryffindor suspects. Hermione finished her signatures and descended from the dais to meet Draco and Scorpius in the middle of their circle of friends. “Astoria would be so proud,” she said to him, before Ron swept her up. Draco embraced his son, unashamed to show his affection and grateful, _so damn grateful_ , that he had managed to do something good for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to do one chapter for each character, but I am having too much fun to want to stop, so I hope to carry on writing more.


	8. Tracey

**1998**

“Oi, what’s with the Slytherin refugee camp in our common room?” Neville asked Ginny as he stepped through the frame.

“Well, none of you seemed to mind the Chosen One stalking me around the castle for six years,” Draco stated snidely from where he sat on the floor next to Astoria passed out on the sofa.

“He’s not wrong,” said Ginny. “Speaking of Harry--”

“Please go now, so I can think about anything except that.”

Ginny winked and headed into the dorms.

Neville was afraid to enter the dormitories now that he knew four of his closest friends were up to Merlin-knows-what in there. So he plunked himself into a chair near the fireplace, joining Nott and Davis--Theo within arm’s reach of a sleeping Daphne, bandages on her ears and blonde hair splayed out on the red-and-gold pillows.

“So then I saw them taking away the Carrows, and Alecto looked straight at me, so then I was like, ‘surprise, bitch, I’m Muggle-born’ and I hexed her tits off,” Tracey said. “I mean, not really,” she clarified, “but let’s just say she’s got a scar to match yours, and then some,” she said, looking at Neville.

His mouth dropped open as Neville struggled to comprehend what he had just heard. Tracey spent the next twenty minutes or so catching him up on all the developments. When she finished her story, Theo shifted in his seat, then winced. 

Tracey’s jaw tensed. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, tone tinged with sadness.

“He took me home with him last Saturday when he was here to see Amycus.”

“Fuck, Theo, I thought we were going to alert each other when a Death Eater came to the castle. After Pansy,” she drifted off, not wanting to go there right now.

“It’s not a topic I enjoy discussing.”

“No shit, none of us do, but you need to let us help you.” Tracey waved her hand. “Right, let me have a look.”

Theo gave her a pained look, but Tracey insisted, and she helped him remove his tie and ease his shirt off. 

Neville drew in a sharp breath when he saw the still-healing stripes on the teenager’s back. He had been whipped, and definitely not for the first time by the looks of it.

“Why are you so shocked, I mean, Theo’s father is a sadistic outlier, but you grew up in a pureblood family,” Tracey questioned.

“So what? They never laid a hand, or wand, on me,” Neville countered.

“How do you think I knew exactly what to do when Alecto made me ‘help’ with detention that time?” Tracey whispered. Neville felt like he was going to be sick.

“No one should be treated like that,” he told her. “No one.”

Tracey wiped her eyes. “Fuck, why does this keep happening today,” she said in response to her tears. 

Together Tracey and Neville performed the limited amount of first aid magic they knew. Theo put his shirt back on, sending them a grateful half-smile.

The next moment, Parkinson and Zabini entered the common room, arm in arm and rather tipsy. “I still can’t believe you came out via Patronus,” she said loudly. “Who does that?"

“Me,” he said seriously, as if the question wasn’t rhetorical.

“Since we’re all in a confessional mood, I wanted to let everyone know that I prefer witches myself,” said Tracey.

“Steady on, Trace, like we didn’t all know,” said Theo.

“Seriously? Who already knew?” she asked incredulously. Blaise, Pansy, and Theo all raised their hands. From over by the other sofa, Draco raised his too.

“It’s news to me,” Neville offered.

“So I heard you chopped the head off of the Dark Lord’s snake,” Tracey said. “How did that come about?”

Neville paused.

“Oh come off it, Longbottom, I was a raging bitch to you for seven years so let us start to make up for it by hearing you regale us with your heroics,” Pansy drawled.

Neville couldn’t really argue with that. 

**2022**

Professor Tracey (call-me-Davis-and-I-will-hex-you) Wilson put down her quill, massaging her tired wrist. Tracey loved teaching Arithmancy, but she was looking forward to the conclusion of the school year. She had plans to visit her parents and in the latter half of the holidays, enjoy some downtime at the castle with Gemma. It had been five years since her divorce from Caitlín was finalized, and although the breakup was amicable, she had been hesitant to put herself out there again. But she was excited to see where things would go with Gemma. _Wilson-Farley isn’t a bad double-barrelled surname at all,_ she mused.

She was jolted out of her reverie by fellow professor Neville Longbottom entering her office, followed by Draco. _Thank Salazar he’s ditched the ponytail_ , she thought to herself. She had not been a fan of that particular look.

“Alright, Tracey,” said Neville, who appeared much too well-rested for her liking. 

“What’s got you in a state?” asked Draco, seeing the jealous look she gave and the slight circles under her eyes. 

“You have no idea how stressful this week has been,” Tracey huffed. “I have to finish writing the final exams and submit another paper for publication. Meanwhile, children won’t stop chanting ‘it’s coming home’ now that England’s favored for the Quidditch World Cup, your girl Myrtle’s flooding the toilets again, and I had to break up a duel between a Slytherin from West Belfast and a Gryffindor from East Belfast. We had to Floo in a liaison from the Department of International Magical Cooperation.” 

“I’ve been mostly chilling in the greenhouses,” said Neville with a sly grin.

“Blaze it up,” said Draco in solidarity.

“Not helping!” Tracey exclaimed.

“Sorry, Trace. If I’m being honest, it sounds like you’ve got a case of SWS.” Draco replied.

“What in Godric’s name is that?”

Tracey shot Draco a look for bringing up that concept. “If you must know, it’s a phrase I came up with when we were in school--Slytherin Workaholic Syndrome. While _you lot_ are out being brave and saving the world, we are here getting shit done without an audience to applaud our every move,” she explained to Neville.

“Sometimes to our detriment, not that we’re keen to admit it,” Draco added. “I know it’s hard to understand Slytherin ambition, but we can’t all be in the best house.” He high-fived Tracey.

Neville rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Anyway, I asked you two here because I do have a serious problem, and I need your help,” said Tracey.

“One of my Muggle-born Slytherins confided in me that her mum’s boyfriend gets violent and she’s afraid to go home for the summer. That is, if she even has a place to go to after coming out over the Easter hols.”

Neville and Draco’s faces both grew serious at Tracey’s words.

“Minerva won’t budge about that stupid rule that students can’t stay here over the summer. I want to have a viable option before I make the official report. I’m not letting her go back to an unsafe environment. I will not have it,” Tracey insisted.

“What about Daph and Theo?”

“They’re going on that trip to France, remember?”

“I would offer, but Hannah and I are planning on staying here until the new house is finished,” said Neville.

“Do you think she’d be alright with the Manor?” Draco asked in a tentative voice.

Tracey’s face lit up. “Do you really mean it? I think that would be perfect, actually.”

“I have a lot of room, I don’t exactly have much to do all day, and I have a bit of experience dealing with teenage girls who are pissed off at the entire world,” he said, thinking of Astoria and missing her dreadfully.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” stated Neville.

“You sure you trust me?” Draco asked him.

Neville smiled. “Of course. Just look at Scorpius. You may have been one fucked up adolescent, but you’re a good dad.”

“Well that settles it. Her name’s Megaera Wiles, but everyone calls her Meg. I’ll set up a meeting to introduce you, and we’ll go from there. Thank you, Draco. I really mean it.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Draco said his goodbyes and departed.

“You were dead on, Neville,“ Tracey said once the door closed. “Who would have thought you would have such insight into the mind of Draco Malfoy?”

Neville shuddered. “Don’t do me like that, Trace.”

She laughed. “You know what, I can finish this tomorrow. How about a cheeky pint at the Three Broomsticks?”

“Ah, witness the corrupting influence of the intrepid lion on the workaholic snake,” Neville said, leading the way to the pub.


	9. Draco

**1998**

With a flick of her wand, Astoria drew her bedroom curtains back, filling the room with bright sunlight. She placed a cup of tea and a croissant on the nightstand. 

“Get up and get dressed,” she ordered Draco. The only response she got was a weak groan.

“We’re taking over the Manor,” she said. Now that got a reaction.

“WHAT?”

“You heard me, we’re getting that house.”

Despite Draco’s initial stated wishes to burn down his ancestral estate, Astoria was confident that her cooler head would prevail. Lucius and Narcissa may have evaded serious consequences from the Ministry, but they would not get to cloister themselves away in that house and leave their son out in the cold--not on her watch. 

“Even if I wanted to go back there, how is it possible to get the Manor for ourselves?” A beat. “Without killing my father and landing ourselves in Azkaban,” Draco added.

“I’ve already worked that out. Turns out in 1555, after a bitter family dispute, there was a clause written into the deed to Malfoy Manor. If the current head of household is convicted by the Wizengamot of any charges, ownership shall immediately change hands to the next heir in line. Draco, you were cleared. Your father, however, officially pled guilty this time around. So the Manor belongs to you now.”

“Seriously? Even I didn’t know about that.”

“I’m certain; Percy Weasley helped me with the archival research at the Ministry, and Hermione says you have the legal standing to evict them whenever you want.”

“Since when are you so popular with Harry Potter’s clique?”

“I’m not, but when you ask people if they want to help piss off Lucius Malfoy, it tends to get results.”

Draco put the cup of tea down and dramatically fell back onto his pillow.

“It’s not like we have to keep it the same as it was when Voldemort was living there,” she said. Draco closed his eyes, wincing at the Dark Lord’s name, and she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I want us to renovate the Manor. I want to get married there, someday. I want to build a life with you in that house.” Astoria said, drawing circles on his hand. “We had to grow up far too fast; we deserve to become our own people as adults. Define ourselves.”

Draco’s eyes had opened back up, staring at her with admiration and love. “As nice as it’s been having our friends around, I can’t say I would want them as housemates indefinitely,” he said. Then his brow furrowed. “Where are my parents going to go?”

“I have also addressed that issue. The Lestranges’ house is empty with them dead and Rabastan in prison. Andromeda has already assured me that she’s  _ more than happy _ for  Narcissa to have it.”

“You’ve really been busy sneaking around haven’t you?” he said in a teasing voice.

“I have. There’s a lot to be done before we both go back to Hogwarts. That’s right, I said both of us.”

“You are terrifying, and I also find that really attractive.”

“I’m well aware of my charms, now let’s get going. Hermione said she’ll help us carry out the eviction with a team of off-duty Aurors for backup, as long as we let her personally demolish the drawing room. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with that.”

Draco shook his head.

“I apologise for taking the piss when you were Sorted; you are a truly an icon among Slytherins,” he said, summoning the cup of tea into his hand while Astoria beamed in response.

**2020**

_ This is what it’s come to _ , thought Draco while he watched his son flit around the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, ensuring that everything was just perfect before the guests arrived.  _ Outwitted by my own son.  _ Still reeling from almost losing Scorpius and imagining a dark alternate timeline, Draco promised his son anything he wanted for Christmas. Now he was stuck hosting a New Year’s Eve party for Scorpius, Albus, and their friends and family including far too many Weasleys for his liking.

Scorpius had spent days planning this soiree, leaving Draco to do little other than write the cheques and worry about a dust-up should any of Potter’s friends still hold a grudge towards his family. Oh, and purchase the alcohol for those of age, because there was no way Draco was going to get through this sober.

Of course, some of his son’s meticulous preparation went out the window as soon as Albus and company arrived. Lily and her best mate Addie Flint-Wood had wrinkled their noses at the classical piano music in the background and demanded that Scorpius ‘pass them the aux cord’ so they could play some ‘absolute bangers.’ Then Ron pulled out his Deluminator ( _ such an enabler,  _ thought Draco), extinguishing most of the lights, while Teddy Lupin transfigured the chandelier into a disco ball. 

Draco had practically cried with relief when his Slytherin gang showed up, fashionably late as usual.  _ At least everyone seems to be getting along _ , he said to himself while milling around the guests. He was surprised to see Pansy holding court with Percy, George, Ginny, and Charlie. “Who’s in for another round?” asked Percy, and they all answered affirmatively. He went over to the bar, nodding to Draco as he approached the redheads plus his snarky sister-of-choice.

“I knew about Charlie, but since when did you get all buddy-buddy with the entire Weasley family?” he asked Pansy. 

“Well, see, there was the time we all caught her snogging Charlie on Christmas, oh, and let’s not omit New Year’s 2010 when she got so pissed she gave us an unforgettable karaoke performance,” George piped up. 

Pansy grimaced. She knew that several Weasleys still possessed video footage of Pansy Parkinson belting out an ‘80s power ballad (she absolutely nailed it, if she had to say so herself). Collecting valuable blackmail material was a very Slytherin move, and she respected that. 

A contemplative grin spread across Draco’s face. “How much alcohol would it take for you to repeat that?”

“How much do you have?”

“I thought about what Astoria would have considered enough back at school, and then doubled it.”

Ginny let out a low whistle. “Cheers, Draco, we’ll be in for a rough morning tomorrow I expect.”

Just then, James ran by them with Aisling Finnegan on his shoulders; his girlfriend yelling, “The craic is ninety!” and shooting sparks from her wand. 

“Definitely,” George said to Ginny in agreement.

“So throwing a massive rager in your mansion attended by Saint Potter himself--will that be your contribution to the Malfoy legacy?” Pansy asked.

“Could be worse,” said Draco, looking very solemn all of a sudden.

“I think the new Malfoy Manor, current occupants included, is the best iteration of this place,” declared Pansy. “Now let’s get fucked up.”

“Hear, hear,” Charlie said, putting his arm around her.

Draco motioned for Ginny and George to circle up. “So how quickly can we get karaoke set up in here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to use notes sparingly but I picture Pansy singing either Faithfully or I Can't Hold Back :) she's a karaoke legend in my mind
> 
> also FYI I'm not British but I've lived in London and am trying my best lol sorry for any missteps


	10. Daphne

**1998**

_Rebelling against one’s pureblood upbringing was all the rage these days_ , Daphne thought as she sat in Andromeda Tonks’s kitchen, _but this was one craze she never saw herself participating in_. Until her seventh year, Daphne had been obsessed with popularity. She came from a long line of Sacred Twenty-Eight socialites, and Daphne was determined to follow in their footsteps. Then everything went to shit, and her rose-colored glasses crashed to the ground.

It didn’t happen straightaway, though. In the shock of grief, and then a war for Merlin’s sake, it hadn’t occurred to Daphne that she could do pretty much whatever she wanted with her life now. She and Astoria had been lucky compared to some of their other housemates; their parents treated them well despite holding onto archaic and bigoted ideas. But her mother had begun to pressure her into dating young men she considered suitable and preparing to become one of the Wizarding world’s version of ladies who lunch. She hadn’t told her parents about Theo; she didn’t want them meddling and judging. When she saw him follow her into the battle without even hesitating--that’s when Daphne knew they had something real, something very different from what so many pureblood couples she grew up around had.

So when their Slytherin group went back to the Greengrass estate because it was the place with the least amount of bad memories, Daphne poured herself a glass of Prosecco, turned up the Muggle radio (which her mother would have been been revolted by) loud enough so she could feel the vibrations, and attacked her closet. She tossed aside all of the silk and chiffon dresses her mother conditioned her into buying, as well as the overly formal dress robes, making room for new styles. Daphne, with Pansy’s help, had a brilliant time altering her clothes and hitting up the Muggle thrift stores they had secretly wanted to visit. 

It wasn’t that Daphne didn’t love dressing up anymore; she had gone to see _Clueless_ at a Muggle discount cinema and connected with Cher on a deep, spiritual level. She just decided to broaden her horizons, because, honestly, Narcissa Malfoy could no longer be her fashion role model anymore. Her eyes had been opened (far beyond clothes, of course), but certainly she could not bear to be on the cusp of a new millennium while still following the trends from centuries ago.

It seemed natural, then, that Astoria would want to introduce her to Andromeda--a more fitting mentor given her new outlook. Daphne hadn’t even known she had existed; her mother had only mentioned two Black sisters in any of her stories. But Daphne was realising that families like hers had closets full of skeletons. To think she had once considered herself on top of all the good pureblood gossip.

So Daphne missed Astoria’s ulterior motive for this little tea party until Andromeda just up and blurted it out rather than stick to the pretenses they had been raised to maintain. Turns out Daphne had been discussed as an ideal candidate for helping Andromeda with her grandson over the summer.

“Are you sure you really want a Deaf childminder?” Daphne asked, glancing between her and the charmed parchment that would record Andromeda’s spoken responses. 

Andromeda’s eyebrow quirked. “I’m a Black descendant who married a Muggle-born, raising a Metamorphmagus grandson whose father was a werewolf,” she said. “We’re used to shaking things up in this household.”

“Well I’m not nearly as experienced as you with bucking tradition, and I don’t have any relevant experience…”

“Course you do,” Andromeda interrupted. “I saw you and Theo with the little Rookwood girl after the battle, and I know you looked after her for a few weeks while the Ministry tracked down her mother’s sister in Russia.”

“It wasn’t all that impressive,” argued Daphne. “She was one of our first-years who needed our help. Wouldn’t anyone else have done the same thing?”

Andromeda snorted dismissively. “Despite the Hogwarts prefect system, there have been far too many instances of older students dropping the ball from my perspective.”

Daphne nodded slowly, then looked up at her. “I’m learning British Sign Language, we all are. It’s frustrating, not being able to fully participate in conversations. So...so I’d like to teach Teddy, if that’s alright with you. And you, as well. So I can actually look at you when you talk to me.”

Andromeda’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Good idea,” she signed. Manners be damned--Daphne nearly knocked Andromeda over with the hug she gave her that morning.

Shortly before Daphne was due to go back to school, she asked Andromeda if Astoria and a friend could stop by for tea. Unbeknownst to the older woman, Daphne had taken a leaf out of her sister’s scheming book. Andromeda opened the door to find Astoria and an exceptionally nervous Narcissa on the stoop.

“The Greengrass girls have demonstrated what I should have done when I was their age--never turned my back on my sister,” Narcissa said. 

Andromeda was quiet for a long moment. “I shut you out, too,” she finally said. “But it’s never too late to start again.”

Behind her, Daphne punched the air in a silent but theatrical celebration, causing her own little sister to suppress a giggle and make the international sign for “I love you,” which Daphne immediately returned. 

**2021**

After leaving school, Daphne approached her career with a vigor that she was sure was sending her mother spinning in her grave. She was the first Nott wife in decades to work outside the home. Despite most people’s predictions that she would work in the fashion or beauty industries, Daphne followed her interest in economics into a position at Gringotts. She worked as an analyst for the bank for about two decades before deciding to move into the public sector.

This year, Daphne had joined the Ministry as part of their new inclusion scheme focused on witches and wizards with disabilities as well as non-humans in the Wizarding world. However, unlike goblins, people tended to be far more judgmental when it came to Daphne’s capabilities and accommodations. Ginny Potter found her crying on her lunch break after Cormac McLaggen made yet another rude comment implying that Daphne’s deafness should disqualify her from the job. 

“What a prick! He’s probably still bitter that Hermione shot him down back at school. Which was a surprise to no one except him,” Ginny mused.

Daphne adjusted her wand where it was held in a loop of fabric at her neckline for hands-free translation from signing into speech. “Ugh, what really irritates me is that he’s trying to learn Mermish to chat up the new mermaid liaison, yet he acts like BSL is just a bit of silly hand-waving.”

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with that, Daphne. It’s not the same, but some men can still be rather sexist when it comes to women in Quidditch.”

“Oh, I can imagine. I know I was a regular Miss Priss for most of school, but I always loved Quidditch. My parents never allowed me to try out though,” Daphne said wistfully. Ginny’s face lit up. 

“Yes! Another woman to talk about Quidditch with!” she exclaimed.

That was a start of a beautiful friendship, as the saying goes. They started going to matches together, and would spend hours afterward rehashing the details at the pub. A few months after their conversation at the Ministry, Daphne and Ginny launched their podcast _Quidditch Through the Ladies_ , recording in both audio as well as signed and captioned versions. Soon, it was second in listenership only to the Wizarding true crime comedy podcast hosted by Pansy Parkinson and Audrey Weasley (who would have thought that Percy would end up marrying a writer/comedian?)

Daphne’s favourite episode so far was the one they did with special guests Lily Potter and Addie Flint-Wood, advising girls on how to prepare for school tryouts. Maybe Daphne had missed her chance to play, but she would make sure that girls today would be encouraged to pursue sports if that’s what they wanted to do. 

Lily and Addie were absolutely thrilled when they were told they could do the usual sign-off for the podcast. 

“Don’t stop chasing quaffles--” Lily began,

“--and may the snitch be ever in your favor,” Addie finished. The glint of admiration in the girls' eyes felt better than winning a Quidditch Cup anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay sexy and don't get Avada'd, y'all ;)


	11. Theo

**1998**

Everyone who had been at the Battle of Hogwarts was asked to attend a special meeting with Headmistress McGonagall before the Welcome Feast. That evening, all the invited students from the oldest returner (Hermione) to second-year Anya Rookwood assembled in the Great Hall. McGonagall was standing in the middle aisle, and the small group of Slytherins sat on a bench facing her on one side, while the rest of the students gathered at the table on the other side. 

Theo and his friends spent the summer at the Greengrass house, except for Tracey who had left for Muggle London to find her birth parents. Theo packed a few things and left his childhood home without a backwards glance. Their group became even more tight-knit, as they learned BSL with Daphne and tried to figure out what to do after surviving a war. When Tracey joined them on the train to school and showed that she too had learned to sign, she was immediately back into the fold as if she had never left. Tracey actually smiled now, which was a departure from the ice queen he had known for so many years.

Meanwhile, Auror Williamson was continuing to be so strangely nice to him. Theo was perpetually bracing for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. His new mentor recommended that he should join the Department of Mysteries, since keeping secrets and silently observing were certainly in his repertoire. Invited him round for dinners that didn’t end with Theo getting ridiculed, threatened, hit, or cursed. Always listened when Theo opened up about a bad memory. He did everything Theo wished Snape had done; abused children tend to recognise another of their own, yet his Head of House remained distant even though he protected them when they were in the castle.

McGonagall began the meeting with a speech about unity, respect, and new beginnings--all very Gryffindor in words and presentation. She praised the students for their courage throughout last school year, and especially during the Battle. But Theo could tell that the other Houses didn’t think the Slytherins should be included in the efforts to move forward. Theo himself was surprised that they were actually allowed back to finish their studies. Apparently, Daph felt the same way because she motioned to get the Headmistress’s attention amidst the buzz throughout the room after her remarks. McGonagall called for silence, and gave the Slytherin girl the floor. 

Daphne held up a piece of parchment reading  _ We’ve done fuck all compared to you lot, and we all know that. _ She switched to the next page.  _ But we’re tired of fighting. We want to be different. Please.  _ The last word was underlined twice. 

“Why should we believe that you’ll be any different now? That you won’t be just like your parents?” a Ravenclaw asked indignantly. 

“Yes, we were raised by Death Eaters, or at the very least, sympathizers,” Theo said darkly. You experienced the Carrows. What do you think happened to most of us at home when  _ we  _ fucked up?”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room. Theo looked up and down the line of his housemates for support. Tracey spoke up first. “The Davises were always eager to prove their magical superiority, so it was curses and hexes for me.”

“When I told my father that I had been...assaulted...he told me it was my fault. That I brought it on myself,” Pansy said. 

Draco’s jaw tensed. “Lucius--mostly he was fine, sometimes even good, but he did beat the hell out of me after the incident with Moody. I embarrassed the family name, and that did not sit well with him,” he explained. On the other side, Hermione paled and bit her lip.

Theo looked at the students from the other Houses. “We’re not saying this to make you pity us or befriend us all overnight. We’re just stating that circumstances have changed for us, and we’re going to take these opportunities and run with them. Petty rivalries would do nothing but detract from our ambitions.” He took Daphne’s hand, thinking about the ring box buried in his school trunk.

Then Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna got up and moved to their bench, joining the Slytherins where Astoria and Blaise made room. With that action, Theo could tell that a truce had been reached. None of the other students were going to question those young war heroes, and they would make sure to pass along the sentiment to the rest of their schoolmates. Theo resolved to do what he could to make sure that Slytherin House set the right example this year. Astoria was on track to becoming their House’s informal leader, and Theo thought it boded well for the future. 

McGonagall spoke again, then--unscripted this time. She apologised for not doing more to intervene when students needed it. “I thought we were doing enough. I see now that there were several lapses in attention and judgment,” she said. “Severus tried to tell me once, but I didn’t understand him.”

“We believed a lot of rubbish ourselves,” Astoria said in response. “Too often we made excuses because of ‘pureblood culture’ or ‘self-preservation,’ but I’ll never use that as justification again. I got to know the DA last year, and--surprisingly--you’re alright. Maybe even cool.” She smirked. “We like to prove ourselves, in Slytherin. All we need is for you to give us a chance.” 

“Awesome speeches all around, but can we wrap this up so we can get the feast started?” Ginny asked, causing Hermione to put a hand to her forehead and mutter, ‘not again.’

Theo turned to his friends and asked in BSL, “How long do you think it will take to drive everyone insane with our signed-only conversations?” This was bound to be an interesting year--that he knew for sure. 

**2022**

Theo sat across from Meg Wiles at a table at the New Fortescue’s. He had spent the morning with Draco’s foster daughter at the Ministry, giving her an (albeit very limited) introduction to the job of Unspeakable since that’s where her current career aspirations lay. 

He had heard a lot about Meg from his friends, though this was the first time to actually interact with her in person. Tracey had told him about the girl who managed to steal the House Cup from the Gryffindor table during the feast and paint _Slytherin was robbed_ on it. Scorpius had filled him in about the time they had snuck out of the house and been caught and returned to Malfoy Manor. Draco had said in a stern voice, ‘I am extremely disappointed,’ to which his foster sister drawled, ‘Hi Extremely Disappointed, I’m Meg.’ Then Theo learned how Meg managed to get a summer job as a ‘security consultant’ for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes after she demonstrated how to shoplift several hundred Galleons worth of merchandise in a single trip. Theo liked Meg long before he officially met her. 

He had never wanted kids of his own. It wasn’t just because he was abused, although that certainly highlighted the importance of not having kids if you will not properly care for them.  Theo just never had the desire to be a parent. Thankfully, Daphne wasn’t keen on it either. Merlin, he was lucky to have her. He didn’t need kids; he already had the best family he could have asked for with his marriage. 

Meg took off her jacket, Theo couldn’t help but look alarmed when he noticed the scars on the girl’s arms. “Oh sorry, I should have warned you. I’ve stopped using glamour charms because I don’t care who sees.” 

“Your scars are your own, Meg. I’ll never judge. I just wanted to make sure you are alright. Does Draco know?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve already had that whole conversation. I thought Draco would be furious--instead he was really calm and Flooed us over to the Weasleys’. Then I thought he and Hermione were both going to lecture me, but instead they showed me their arms and told me that scars were nothing to be ashamed of. They told me that they cared about me and didn’t want me to hurt myself anymore; that there were better ways to cope with the shitty hand you get dealt in life.”

“Listen to them, they’re right,” Theo said. 

“I know. Draco was really great about it. I even told him I was sorry for calling him the Wizarding equivalent of Jacob Rees-Mogg during a previous argument.” She grinned.

Salazar, she reminded him of Astoria. 

As if reading his thoughts, Meg added, “He told me Astoria was bisexual, too, and that there was nothing wrong with me. That he was proud of me for coming out.”

“You should be proud.” Theo smiled. “So how do you like living with the Malfoys then?”

“It’s awesome, and not just because they’re loaded. But it helps. Draco’s even paying for me to carry on with gymnastics again; the Muggle mum of a girl at school is a coach and will help me train without running into any Statute of Secrecy issues.” She paused, “And of course, Scor is the best! He took me to a Taylor Swift concert for my birthday.”

Theo already knew about this from Scorpius, and he had seen the dance video to “Shake It Off” that the two of them filmed at the Manor (it had gone viral among their classmates as well as the teachers).

“It’s going to become a more permanent thing, you know, with the Malfoys,” Meg said. “Surprise, surprise, good old Mum has decided she’d rather not parent a freak like me anymore, and my dad split when I was five. So Draco asked if I wanted to go through with the adoption, and I said yes. He said he loves Scorpius more than life itself, but that he’s always wanted a daughter too.” She paused. “You’re the first person I’ve told besides Draco and Scorpius. Do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, I know they have an awful history.”

“So did Slytherin, but we’re lucky to have you in our House.” Meg beamed, resembling a young Astoria Greengrass even more.

Later that year, Theo attended the ceremony where Meg officially became Megaera Regina (an homage to Regulus) Malfoy. Andromeda and Narcissa both cried when Meg explained her chosen middle name.

At the party afterwards, Lucius Apparated into the room to everyone’s shock, and presented Meg with a diamond hair clip. He said that it had belonged to his sister Lavinia who had died in childhood and was supposed to be passed down to Artemis, his and Narcissa’s stillborn daughter. “You are a Malfoy now, and no one shall take issue with it,” he said loudly, surveying the crowd disdainfully. Then he Disapparated just as abruptly as he had arrived.

“He does that occasionally,” Scorpius said, helping her attach the clip to her updo. 

Daph and Theo were determined to spoil Meg as much as they had been spoiling Scorpius, and Meg slowly became more used to all the positive attention. He definitely saw aspects of himself in her, and he resolved to be the kind of mentor that Williamson had been for him. 

So Theo was in the stands the next year for the final match of Slytherin’s Cinderella run towards the 2023 Quidditch Cup. Everyone thought Gryffindor was destined to win, boasting talent like Lily Potter, Addie Flint-Wood, and Jack Jordan. But Albus and Scorpius made a fine pair of Chasers, always in sync and connected. They rallied the rest of the team to some impressive come-from-behind victories and now had made it all the way to the championship. Their secret weapon, though, was Seeker Meg Malfoy. In the middle of the match, Meg was knocked off her broom, but managed to catch it and flip around as if she were practicing on the uneven bars. “Thanks again for the gymnastics lessons!” she shouted at Draco as she flew by the stands.

Next to Theo and Daph, Ginny Potter was cheering herself hoarse, decked out like a Christmas tree in red and green for each of her children. Daphne was the Quidditch expert in their household, so he looked to her to understand when an important play was about to happen. As the seconds started to tick down with Slytherin and Gryffindor tied, Daph was tense with anticipation. Then she gasped and whispered, “Oh Merlin, I think she’s really going to do it.” With a throwback to the iconic Wronski Feint, Meg outwitted the other Seeker with a clever dive variation and caught the Snitch with five seconds to spare. 

The crowd went absolutely wild, and Theo had never been so excited about a Quidditch result in his life. He didn’t need to have any biological or parental ties to feel that sense of pride for one of  _ theirs _ , a member of his Slytherin family of choice, achieving her dreams. 


	12. Pansy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write so far! I never thought I would love writing about Pansy as much as I do. I hope y'all enjoy it! I know it's a rare pairing so hopefully I've won you over :)

**1998**

The 31st of October was even more of an early morning for Hermione than usual. Muggle Studies was a mandatory subject for everyone this year and their young, enthusiastic professor had promised both House and exam points for anyone who dressed up for the entire day of Halloween as a Muggle, real or fictional. Hermione had diligently researched many ideas before making a final decision and poured considerable time into making it look exactly how she wanted.

She was disappointed to see that so many students failed to take advantage of the extra credit opportunity including a significant portion of her own House--something she would never understand. At least Ginny had put in the effort; she had done an excellent take on Duchess Sarah Ferguson. Hermione was extremely proud of her own Alice Paul costume and its flowing, white dress. The elaborate hairstyle had required a lot of Sleekeazy’s but it was all worth it. 

Then Hermione noticed that the Slytherin table currently boasted one hundred percent participation, from a bunch of first-year Ewoks to a group of seventh-year Starfleet officers. Even Theo and Blaise were wearing suits and sunglasses as the Men in Black. _Impressive,_ Hermione thought, while sipping her tea. Then she realised that everyone’s attention had shifted to the entrance. In fact, the hall had gone quiet except for Megan Jones’s loud pronouncement of “Oh. My. God.” from the Hufflepuff table. 

Pansy Parkinson, in a red plaid outfit with Charmed-blonde hair, strode down the aisle flanked by Tracey in green and Daphne in yellow. They were a perfect trio of Heathers, right down to the broomsticks loosely Transfigured into croquet mallets. The room was once again abuzz with chatter as the students more familiar with Muggle pop culture were hurriedly explaining the references to their housemates. 

But that wasn’t the only surprise in store this morning. Hermione had just turned back to her breakfast when across from her Ginny breathed, “no fucking way.” Hermione’s mouth dropped open when she saw Astoria enter the room in a blue ruffled skirt and grey cardigan alongside a brown-haired dark-jacketed Draco--clearly the JD to her Veronica. The student body’s excitement grew even more. Hermione noticed that even some DA members were amused; Justin Finch-Fletchley was smiling and shaking his head cheerfully. 

Draco joined his friends at the Slytherin table, but Astoria walked over to the Gryffindors instead. She amplified her voice with a flick of her wand and looked straight at the Muggle Studies teacher. “I heard about your prediction regarding my House and this challenge you set. Well, Professor Tremlett, there’s a new sheriff in town.” She winked, then sat down next to Hermione. “Love the costume! Did you know there was a secret society of witches who assisted the suffragettes? I just finished a book about them and found it absolutely fascinating,” Astoria said. The ensuing conversation distracted Hermione from thinking any further about the other Slytherins, especially the unbelievable fact that Draco Malfoy knew about a Muggle film with a cult following. 

“Hey, Heather Chandler,” Hermione said amiably as she walked into the Charms classroom later that day. Pansy looked up and smiled, although Hermione could tell she was stressed. Flitwick had begged her to help him with Parkinson, knowing that Hermione wouldn’t say no to a professor’s genuine call for assistance regardless of how she felt about the Slytherin girl. She and Pansy had actually managed to keep things cordial during these peer tutoring sessions, and Pansy’s schoolwork was starting to show some improvements. 

But today Pansy became frustrated from the beginning, finally losing her patience and roughly sweeping her parchment and textbook off the desk. “This is pointless,” she said. “I’ll never pass exams when I have to re-read the same paragraph over and over again.”

“Well you won’t do well if you give up on the reading like that,“ said Hermione, a bit testily.

“Easy for you to say, ‘brightest witch of her age’,” Pansy replied spitefully. “I guess the words moving around don’t bother someone with your talents.”

 _Hang on, what?_ “Pansy, what do you mean by that?” Hermione said slowly.

“So now you’re taking the piss? Pretending I don’t even make sense when I speak?”

“Pansy, I am not mocking you. I swear. Just, please, tell me what you mean by the words moving. When you look at the page, are the words not in a fixed position?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s why I hate reading. I’m not clever enough to get through it like you are.”

“Do the letters ever jump around too?”

“Sure. Gives me a headache sometimes.”

 _Merlin, how could everyone have missed this?_ thought Hermione. She had always assumed that Pansy was a combination of thick and unmotivated. 

“Pansy, listen to me. That’s not what reading is like for everyone. You have something called dyslexia. You have involuntary difficulties with reading, but it doesn’t have anything to do with your intelligence. There are lots of people in the Muggle world with dyslexia who are very accomplished, and I’m sure there are in the Wizarding world too.”

“Dyslexia?” a voice called out, causing both girls to jump. It was Professor Flitwick, who had clearly caught the tail end of their conversation. “Miss Parkinson,” Flitwick said gently. “Is this why you don’t even try sometimes when I know you understand the concepts?”

Pansy looked like a deer in headlights. “I-I guess,” she stammered out. “I thought I just - just wasn’t cut out for school shit--sorry, Professor--stuff. When enough people say it, you think it must be true.”

“I apologise if I ever gave you that impression,” Flitwick said sincerely. “I jumped to the incorrect conclusion that you simply didn’t want to be here. But you are not doomed to fail, Pansy. I believe that you can do more than just pass your NEWTs. I believe that you can succeed at them.”

Pansy put a hand up to her face, but Hermione could see from her shaking shoulders that the girl was crying. “You’re going to do this. You can do it. I’ll help you,” Hermione declared. She, Pansy, and Flitwick spent the next hour in an intense strategy session for getting Pansy on track with her studies and assistance for her dyslexia.

A few days later, at the end of Care of Magical Creatures class, Pansy announced to Hagrid her intentions to become a Magizoologist specialising in unicorns. “I’m willing to listen to any advice you have, and I promise not to be rude--well, I’ll try really hard not to. I may have to do things a bit differently with revision and exams, but that’s not because I’m stupid--I have a learning disability,” she said confidently. 

Hagrid laughed. “Welcome to the club,” he boomed. “A course I’ll help ya! Someone’s gotta look after the pretty beasts too.” 

Word of Pansy’s newfound commitment to her courses spread quickly, and Hermione was pleased to see that as the Slytherin girl made an effort, most students and teachers were receptive. Pansy was still far from the most popular girl in school, with the whole handing-Harry-over incident still hanging over her, but she was slowly becoming more accepted. When Dennis Creevey, lashing out at any available target in his grief, insulted her intelligence in the courtyard, a Muggle-born Gryffindor interrupted. “Mate, shut up. My sister’s got dyslexia, and she graduated from university.”

Pansy straightened up, then, holding her head high. “You can call me a bitch or a coward, and I won’t argue with you. But I won’t ever let anyone tell me I’m too dim for school ever again,” she said.

“But if _I_ hear you call her _any_ of those things, it won’t be pleasant,” threatened Draco. 

“Same here,” said Hermione. School would be less interesting without a few somewhat-reformed Heathers around. 

**2021**

Pansy had been dreading her fortieth birthday for ages, but here it was, ready to engulf her like a Lethifold at the foot of the bed. (Technically, she was forty-one, but after lying about being twenty-nine for several years, she had to make her pretending a little more accurate). Not even having a birthday so close to Valentine’s Day, and thus getting twice the amount of special attention from Charlie for such a short month, assuaged her dismay. The only thing that had made her feel better about the occasion was when Draco offered to throw a party for her at the Manor. Pansy did always relish being the guest of honour at such occasions. 

Furthermore, now that the Manor had survived New Year’s with what seemed like half of Hogwarts, Pansy was confident that the venerable estate could withstand anything. With the kids at school, this party was supposed to be less intense, but Pansy knew from years of experience that the Weasley adults still had a penchant for mischief. 

After that fateful Christmas of 2007, Pansy had become the wine aunt of the Weasley clan. She and Charlie were often away from England for their jobs, but she enjoyed being around the large family during their visits home. When Roxanne wanted to meet some hyperactive Muggle teen celebrity called JoJo, it was Pansy who bought her some enormous hair bows, took her to the shopping centre, and waited in line. Well, they may have enhanced their position in the queue with some nonverbal magic, but Roxy was happy and the Muggles were none the wiser, so all in all it was a successful operation. 

But there was no one in the world Pansy loved spending time with more than Charlie. When she fell for him while doing fieldwork in Romania, she fell _hard_ . Pansy was well aware of how dramatic she could be, but Salazar, she had never cried _happy_ tears over a guy before. He just got her. He was understanding about her dyslexia from the start and never made so much as one teasing remark around it or any of her real insecurities. But they loved having witty sparring matches, and she could crack him up with just one look or sarcastically-uttered word. 

Most importantly, he didn’t pressure her into anything she wasn’t ready for. “We’ll have to take things slow,” Pansy had said to him when they were alone, huddled together in a Romanian field and looking at the stars up above. “Think sloths. Glaciers. Crabbe’s reflexes, forgive me for speaking ill of the dead.” Charlie knew the basic details since Pansy’s case against Avery was covered by the press. But he didn’t push for more information until she was ready to share. 

And one day, Pansy was. “We did have a falling-out, yes, but it was only for a short time in seventh year and that wasn’t the reason why,” she said in response to Charlie’s question about her friendship with Draco. Apparently someone had told him that they were on bad terms because of an argument about blood status. 

“What happened?” Charlie asked, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

“My rape happened. Over Easter holidays when Draco had already left. I blamed him, he blamed himself.”

“The fault lies completely with that disgusting excuse for a human being,” Charlie told her. 

“We came to the same conclusion soon enough,” said Pansy. “I realised that I didn’t want to spare Avery from any of the responsibility for what he did to me. He is the one that deserves to be miserable. I try to live by that idea. Merlin, I try. But it isn’t always that easy.”

Charlie embraced her, and Pansy felt so ridiculously free in his arms. She never wanted to let him go. So they both stuck by each other, during the hard times and the fun moments. Even when she feared most that he might not want this anymore. Like when she confessed to him that Avery had done some crude magic to prevent pregnancy that left Pansy sterile so even on the rare chance she did change her mind about kids, it was never going to happen biologically. But instead of packing his things, he told her that he hadn’t planned on having children either. He even Flooed home to explain to Molly and Arthur that questions about grandchildren from Charlie were completely off-limits. His parents, bless them, were more concerned about whether Pansy was alright than with any expectations about the couple’s future. 

Now, at forty, Pansy still had zero doubt that Charlie was the one for her. She rested her head against his shoulder as they stood chatting with their friends on the Manor’s grounds. Draco had expressed his wish to learn how to drive a Muggle car, “since Scorpius is adamant on getting his licence and I need to make sure he’ll be safe whilst practicing.” Ron figured they should get the first lesson out of the way now before anyone touched the alcohol or the alarmingly large bag of marijuana Luna and Rolf had brought back from their latest adventure. Draco had bought an Aston Martin to learn to drive in, because this was Draco Malfoy we were talking about, obviously. 

Meanwhile, Pansy had launched into a rant about Dolores Umbridge’s latest offensive column about ‘bringing back traditional marriage,’ which for that horrible woman meant wizard-witch pairings that produced magical children. Pansy regretted every single thing she had done to bolster Umbridge’s reign at school. “We don’t need a ceremony and a piece of parchment to show that we’re committed,” Pansy said. “Also, fuck the patriarchy. I’m forty so now I am far too old for that shit!” Pansy had become rather ‘woke’ regarding feminist issues with her involvement in Wizarding rape and domestic violence charities.

“I agree with the sentiment, but am I the only one in our year who isn’t having a midlife crisis?” Hermione asked. 

The Aston Martin zoomed into sight, slowing to a crawl in front of them. Ron rolled the window down, gangsta rap blaring from the speakers. “Smoke weed every day,” he sang, flipping off Pansy while Draco flashed a sideways peace sign from the driver’s seat. Then Draco floored the gas, and the car shot off once again. 

“You are the only one in our year who isn’t having a midlife crisis,” Harry said matter-of-factly, while Ginny leaned against him for support in her gales of laughter. 

“Oh dear sweet Hermione,” Pansy said. “I know what you said to Mrs. May over the phone before she left Number 10. Turns out you’ve got a bit of Slytherin in you.”

Hermione blushed. “Well you see, there was a girl I knew at school who I may have learned a thing or two from.” 

Then Pansy reached out and pulled Hermione into a hug. “I may have learned a thing or two from you as well,” she told the Minister with a smile.


	13. Blaise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, I lied because this is my favorite chapter.

**1998**

The school term had been relatively calm so far, especially compared to Blaise’s most recent years. The truce reached on the first day had lasted; there were snide comments, silent treatments, and the like, but no out-and-out fights between Houses. Blaise, Luna, and Draco were sitting in the new all-house upper years’ common room making half-arsed attempts at their Defence assignments while Astoria rehearsed a stripped-down cover of “Zombie” on her guitar. 

Luna and Draco had a weird heart-to-heart about everything that happened at Malfoy Manor shortly after school began. Neither of them would talk about what exactly was said but they were comfortable studying together and sometimes went for walks together in the forest (neither of them gave a damn about the rule against it). 

Blaise had just put down his quill to stretch his wrist when a Slytherin fourth-year burst through the door, marched over to Astoria, and whispered something in her ear.

“No! We are _not_ forfeiting!” She conjured a Patronus and said to it, “Nobody move. Give me a few minutes and I will be right there. This match is still on!” Then she sent the silvery dragon on its way, and took off for the Quidditch pitch. An exasperated Draco went after her.

Blaise turned to Luna and grinned. “We won’t want to miss this,” he said, taking her hand and leading her outside. 

By the time they made it to the pitch at a much slower pace, Astoria was reorganising the players since their captain was out with a last-minute injury. “Harper, if you switch, we can take her. Congratulations, Anya, welcome to the Slytherin Quidditch team,” she said to the twelve-year-old. “I’ll play Keeper, then. Ron Weasley picked it up, it can’t be impossible.”

“I really don’t think you should be doing this,” Draco said but was completely ignored by his girlfriend.

Then Astoria noticed Blaise and Luna watching the scene. “Blaise! I’ve been practicing, but I’m still not great with fashion Transfiguration. Mind helping me out?” He smirked and cast a few spells, turning Astoria’s outfit into a pair of black leggings and a T-shirt that resembled the Slytherin jerseys. 

“Almost ready. Draco, do you still have your Nimbus 2001?” she asked.

He sighed. “Astoria, I don’t want to be responsible if something happens.”

“Draco, get me that fucking broomstick...Fine. Accio!” she shouted, casting the spell with so much vigour that seconds later the broom handle landed in her outstretched hand. 

“This is a terrible idea! You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he argued.

Astoria defiantly kicked off and rose into the air. “LOOK AT ALL THE FUCKS I GIVE, DRACO,” she screamed from her perch, holding her hands out wide. 

Now Draco was yelling as well. “FOR MERLIN’S SAKE, ASTORIA! Do you have a death wish? Is that why you ran into the battle? Do you seriously care that little about YOUR OWN LIFE?”

“I WENT BACK FOR YOU!”

Draco looked like he had been Stunned. 

Astoria continued in tears, “I wanted to help the DA, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it. Until I found out that you were in the castle. So I charged right into a bloody battle for you.” She took a shuddering breath. “Because I wanted a world where the Light won. But I also wanted a world with you in it.”

“You shouldn’t have wanted _that_ ,” he said. “Of all the things…”

“Yeah, I know the rest of the world can’t understand it. And I know you think you don’t deserve it. But I need you to believe in it. Because it’s always the one thing Voldemort never saw coming. I’m living on borrowed time in this world. I’ll never be a hero. But I’ll be damned if they don’t talk about what I did for love.”

“I’m all in,” he said suddenly. “Couldn’t back out if I tried.” Astoria choked out a sob. 

“Right, so I’ll be expecting an invitation to the Malfoy-Greengrass wedding, but in the meantime it’s cold out here so let’s get this show on the road,” Blaise declared, making Astoria break into giggles. 

“We can always count on you to keep us on track, Blaise,” she said affectionately. She took a deep breath, and exhaled one last tearful laugh. “Catch you later, Malfoy,” she addressed her boyfriend, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “I have a match to win.”

Luna smiled at Blaise serenely. “My warming charms are some of my best spellwork,” she said, and cast a spell that instantly made him feel like he was sitting next to the fireplace in his common room. “Thanks,” he said genuinely, then turned back to the action on the pitch. Astoria was calling out directions to her teammates.

“Anya, sweetheart, all I want you to do is focus on that snitch. You are so bright and quick. You dodge those Bludgers, get the Golden Snitch, and don’t worry about anything else.” The petite Rookwood saluted Astoria, and then flew off towards the periphery of the arena. 

Astoria fixed the Hufflepuff Beaters with a serious gaze. “I know you have a job to do, but if you unnecessarily cause that girl harm, I will fucking end you,” she said menacingly. Then she put a smile back on her face. “You got this! You’re doing amazing!” she shouted to Anya.

Then she turned to her own Beaters, two fifth-year boys who seemed less than enthused about the change of leadership. “I want you to annihilate those badgers like I know you can, but I also want you to stay in control and keep your heads in the match.”

“Why should we let you boss us around? What was the last thing you did on a Quidditch pitch?” he questioned.

“Your mother, Pritchard, now shut up and get in position,” Astoria snapped. 

Finally, she addressed her Chasers. “Harper,” she said to the boy who was normally at Seeker, “I know this isn’t where you would prefer to be but I need you in the thick of things because you’re a brilliant flier and a great strategist.” She switched her focus to the girl on her left. “Bridget, I need you to bring the same energy you bring to Duelling Club today, because you are powerful as hell in there.” Then she locked eyes with the Farley girl. “Leandra, you are clever and lovely, now go out there and enjoy this.” 

With that, the Slytherins were ready for combat. Blaise, Luna, and Draco took a seat in the stands. Having heard about the pre-match commotion, much of the student body had made their way over to see the action for themselves.

“This is ridiculous! Isn’t there anything you can do to stop them?” Draco was asking Hermione, who had arrived with Neville, Dean, and Seamus. 

“Ugh, this is why I turned down the offer of Head Girl,” Hermione responded. “I’ve had enough stress in my life trying to keep people from being killed or expelled. Your girlfriend is not my problem, Malfoy.” He sighed yet again, the expression on his face reading ‘Hades, take me now.’ At least Pansy was there; Blaise knew that she would get Draco to calm down with some tough love soon enough. 

A Gryffindor boy was at the microphone providing commentary, but Blaise became annoyed when not only was he clearly showing bias in favour of the Hufflepuffs, but then he started outright slagging off his housemates.

“Oi! Do you want to chat shit or do you want to commentate the match?” he shouted, and was ready to deck the kid before McGonagall stepped in and removed the Gryffindor from his post. Blaise thought that this was his time to shine, so after a brief conversation with the Headmistress, he took over at the microphone. He asked Luna to come with him in case he needed a refresher on her excellent warming charm. 

Blaise had always wanted to do this since the days of Lee Jordan, even though he usually reserved his wit and flair for drama for his House. “And she stops Hufflepuff cold yet again! Great save by Greengrass,” he cried out. “Here comes Farley with another play. Can she do it? Yes! Ten points for Slytherin!”

“I have no idea what’s going on, but that spiralling dive by the Slytherin Chaser was beautiful. Also, I see some Wrackspurts around the Hufflepuff Keeper’s head. I’m not surprised, it’s a rather large target,” she mused.

“Thank you for that,” Blaise said, continuing with his narration of the actual plays. They continued the commentary much like this for the rest of the match. Blaise would hype up the action, and Luna would pop in with random, funny observations. They made a pretty good team. 

Blaise was so engrossed in commentating that it took him awhile to realise that Slytherin was holding its own against the badgers. They might actually pull this off. 

The score remained tied for fifteen minutes, then twenty, as neither side was able to score a goal.

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!” Astoria shouted at her Chasers, and then her eyes widened as she surveyed the air. Blaise saw it too--the Hufflepuff seeker was a few inches ahead of Anya, his hand outstretched, ready to close around the hovering snitch. But then, in a move still known today as the ‘Rookwood Kamikaze,’ Anya leapt like a cat from her broomstick and snatched the snitch away before plummeting towards the earth until Pritchard swooped in and caught her. 

“Merlin’s beard! Rookwood has the snitch! SLYTHERIN WINS! WE WIN!” Blaise shouted in sheer excitement. 

He almost wanted to cry with happiness when he saw the utter elation on Astoria’s face as she pumped both of her fists upward. _Pull yourself together_ , he thought. _Can’t have everyone thinking our House is full of saps_. 

Blaise watched as Astoria, with a determined grin on her face, flew into the stands, tossing the broomstick to Tracey. Then she grabbed Draco by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him. 

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” he said. “It’s--you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I--I love you, Astoria.” The Gryffindor boys with Hermione made faces of mock disgust while she looked on rather smugly. 

“You know what this means,” Pansy said loudly, getting everyone’s attention. She paused for effect. “Greengrass is our queen.”

Astoria threw her head back and laughed. 

“I think this calls for a celebration,” Blaise said. “I happen to be aware of the location of both Astoria’s old stash of vodka and Trelawney’s hidden sherry bottles.”

He fixed Hermione with a piercing gaze. “You better not grass us up,” he warned.

“Again--not Head Girl, not my problem,” she responded. 

“If you’re not too scared,” he began in a teasing tone, “you and your lot should come by. It was my turn to set the passphrase this week; it’s ‘come as you are.’”

“ _You_ listen to Nirvana?” Hermione asked.

“ _You_ listen to Nirvana?” he repeated back.

They both said ‘hm’ at the same time and then exchanged nods of understanding.

Heading back to the castle, Blaise was glad he decided to go back to school this year. Besides, how else would he have noticed how fit Harper was looking in that Quidditch uniform?

**2023**

Blaise Zabini stood in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, anxiously pacing and taking swigs from a small flask (his best woman Pansy really had thought of everything, including liquid courage). He tried to channel that somewhat annoying mindfulness app Kieran had on his phone, and thinking of something his very soon-to-be husband loved made him feel more at ease. This was _their_ day, he reminded himself, and it would be wonderful. Still, he distracted himself from his nerves by looking at the pictures in front of him. 

As soon as you entered the Manor, you were met with a display of photographs. The largest in the centre featured Narcissa, Andromeda, Teddy, Victoire, Draco, Scorpius, and Meg. They all faced the camera with fierce stares, but then switched a few seconds later to laughter--from the two Black sisters’ softer expressions to Meg and Scorpius’s outright displays of mirth.

There was also a photo of Astoria and Draco at their wedding, one of the couple with a newborn Scorpius, and another of Meg’s adoption day. But the last photograph always made Blaise catch his breath a little--it was the group shot of Slytherin House from the 1998-1999 school year. In the background you could see a banner reading “Greengrass Is Our Queen”--despite losing the championship, the House was still proud of how their team rose to the occasion and completed the Quidditch season. Despite numerous attempts to stop them, they did, however, win the House Cup that year. The students were all assembled around the silver trophy displayed on the table. What really got to Blaise, though, was how genuinely happy he and his friends looked. Not just satisfied with their win, but lively, young, _free_. 

But Blaise knew that these pictures didn’t tell the full story. He couldn’t forget the sight of a sixteen-year-old Astoria screaming, covered in blood, after she found Draco in his bedroom in November. He had carved straight down the middle of his Dark Mark and had cut too deep; Blaise was afraid to think of what might have happened had Astoria not reached him in time. Then, there was the way Astoria had looked at the end, fighting so hard while there was nothing anyone could do for her except try to lessen the pain. The family photograph didn’t show any evidence of the rift that existed between Teddy and the Malfoys for years; they didn’t start to reconcile until Astoria’s funeral. 

There was also the question of who was missing from inside the gleaming silver frame; despite two sisters’ long-overdue reconnection, the painful memories of the eldest, insane Black sister would never fade. Because of her and the man she followed into the depths of evil, three members of the family were gone forever. And what of Lucius? Blaise knew for a fact that he was responsible for the expensive frame, yet no amount of wealth could ever undo the terrible things he had done or at least assisted in. At the same time, he was trying to atone--in his flawed, guarded, perhaps even damaged way. 

Wasn’t that part of being in a family, though--to wrestle with the imperfect nature of the people you love, even when you can’t always understand why you love them in the first place? To fear that you are destined to repeat the mistakes of those who have come before you, while also hoping to make the ones who will come after you proud? For a long time, Blaise had run the other way from anything resembling a romantic relationship. Certainly, had he not met the right man, his family of choice would always have been enough, always. 

But he had, and Kieran had ingratiated himself with Blaise’s group seamlessly despite all their collective baggage. He was a half-blood and only a first-year during the Battle of Hogwarts, but he was from Derry and had plenty of experience dealing with family drama and paramilitary organisations due to the Muggle side of his family. Blaise couldn’t believe that not only had he been shacking up with a Ravenclaw for a couple years, but now he was going to marry the guy. He was going to go through with the one thing he swore not to after stepfather number three met his doom, and there was nothing he would rather be doing at the moment.

In the end, the ceremony and reception went off without a hitch. The attendees probably would be the source of some Wizarding gossip; most weddings did not feature one groom’s ex-IRA uncle and the other’s ex-Death Eater mate among the guests. Even Lucius made a brief appearance to give the couple a set of silver candlesticks before leaving with a ‘pop.’ 

“We run with a strange crowd, you know that?” Kieran said to him in response to the unexpected gift. 

Blaise shrugged, “Pansy said he showed up at the rape crisis centre last month, didn’t say anything, just shoved a sack of Galleons in her hands and walked out. I think it means he approves of us.”

“Hm, I think so too. Not that we need anyone’s approval, of course. But it’s nice when others acknowledge just how great we two have it.” Kieran smiled at him, the kind where his eyes crinkled and made Blaise feel a bit like he was flying. Kieran. His _husband_. Love was complicated and sometimes terrifying, but Merlin, it was worth it.


	14. Astoria part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to add one or two more scenes to Astoria's story (and the final chapter of this work).   
> But I am too impatient, so I'm posting the first part now!
> 
> Happy Xmas Eve y'all!
> 
> Stay tuned for the conclusion :)

**1998**

A handful of students booed when the first student was sorted into Slytherin, but he remained stoic as he walked to his new House’s table. Astoria tried to drown them out by rallying her Housemates with a whispered, “cheer, for fuck’s sake!” and when that was largely unsuccessful, began rubbing her temples to mitigate her stress. 

But the jeers stopped once a Muggle-born girl burst into tears as soon as the Hat called out, “Slytherin!” McGonagall had to walk the inconsolable student over to the table where Astoria swept her into a hug and then slid over so the first-year could sit between her and Draco. 

“Courtney, sweetheart, we don’t care about blood status. You are one of us now. If anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll punch them in the face,” Astoria declared. Then she added, conspiratorially, “and we’ll work on your self-defense skills and soon  _ you _ can punch them in the face.” That won Astoria a tearful smile, but the girl still looked terrified. So Draco decided to try. 

“See that girl over there, Hermione Granger? She’s Muggle-born and always topped our class. And when I was mean to her in third year, she punched me in the face.” he said. 

The girl’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Pansy would never let me forget it,” he answered.

From across the table Pansy added, “Oh, I was all sympathetic towards this one for a long time, but now I’m considering paying Dean Thomas to paint a mural of Draco getting punched for our common room.” 

“Cheers, Pans, great to be back.”

Courtney was snickering now, albeit still shaken. 

Another student was Sorted into Slytherin, then, eliciting a resounding “Woooo!” from Astoria and a less eager, but just as loud, “yeaaaah” from Pansy. Draco strongly suspected that she and Pansy had something other than pumpkin juice in their glasses, and resolved not to let any of the first years accidentally take a sip. At least Drunk Astoria would keep the Bloody Baron away; Draco found out the morning he woke up in Gryffindor Tower that she flashed her tits to both the ghost and Terry Boot the night before. Neither wanted to so much as look at Astoria anymore.

Finally, the Sorting ceremony was finished and the students headed back to the Slytherin common room. Astoria surveyed her new Housemates; they seemed like a sound group of kids. She stood in front of the fireplace, the centre of attention, and called the House meeting to order. 

“Right, so last year was a debacle for everyone, but certainly for me in so many ways. But in the spirit of fresh starts and new beginnings, I want to show the rest of the school that we’re made of steel and ice and our House is here to stay. I realise I’m only a sixth year, but unless anyone else wants to step up, I don’t mind being our leader of sorts. Especially because Slughorn’s probably going to be fucking useless at times.” Astoria rolled her eyes but still wore a smirk.

“Daph says ‘we trust you, little sis,’” Theo said aloud.

“Thanks, Daphne. Which brings me to my first order of business. My sister Daphne is Deaf and still just as much of a witch as any other girl here, and everyone needs to accept that right now. Some of us have learned British Sign Language and we’re happy to teach anyone else who wants to learn.”

Astoria looked down at her hastily scribbled notes. “Second, it’s Tracey Wilson now; calling her by her old surname is forbidden by pain of death. But really, it’s the same old Trace, so you should be treading lightly to begin with.” Tracey laughed, shrugging her shoulders playfully.

Astoria continued, “A few people have talked about potentially doing something to remember Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode, who died last year. I thought it would be nice to create something for our common room, so it’s just for us. I know it’s going to be a difficult and complicated discussion, and it’s been a long day, so we can table this and return to it at next week’s meeting."

A brief pause. “Moving on. Prefects--you know who you are--I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but please find numerous opportunities to reward your fellow Slytherins’ accomplishments. Get creative, because it’s likely going to be a three-on-one situation when it comes to the other prefects.

Lastly, before I shut up, while I trust the prefects with all of their official duties, I think we could be more democratic about other things. For instance: the passphrases. All of the upper years should have a chance to set it, and we can alternate among everyone who’s interested. I’ll start if no one minds--as of now, this week’s phrase is 'you’re a dream to me.'”

Blaise groaned, but Astoria knew he was teasing. “Of course we all have to fuel Astoria’s Cranberries obsession.”

“Please, Zabini, you love “Linger” no matter how much you deny it.”

“You really listen to Muggle music?” little Courtney piped up.

“Sure we do; most of us weren’t allowed to before so of course it was one of the first things we got into after the war,” Blaise responded. 

“I hid my tapes at the bottom of my trunk when a boy said I had to watch out for Slytherin, because they hate everything Muggle. Everybody on the train said that you lot were all evil and scary, but that’s not true. I was so afraid,” Courtney said softly. 

“None of us are perfect, but all of us belong here in Slytherin,” said Astoria. “This House is where you’ll make your real friends, and I truly believe that. We’re all going to muddle through this new school--this new world--together.” Astoria saw the genuine smiles on her friends’ faces, and warmth flooded through her.

“Brilliant, now let’s adjourn. Merlin, this bra is annoying and I can’t wait to be free,” blurted out Pansy, sending Courtney and Astoria into giggles. 

Draco shook his head. He was sure the Gryffindors were already gossiping about whatever sinister plans they were devising in Slytherin, completely clueless about the realities of his House.

In fact, several weeks later he caught two younger Gryffindor students trying to sneak into their common room (probably on a stupid dare) with the guesses of “pureblood supremacy,” “die mudbloods,” and “Death Eaters.” All he had to do was clear his throat and point a finger in the opposite direction to send the two scurrying away.

Draco smirked as he recalled the list of passphrases from the year so far:

  * “the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this” (his reluctant contribution after Astoria made him participate)
  * “here we are now, entertain us” (Blaise, of course)
  * “I try all the time in this institution” (Pansy)
  * “it’s only fear that makes you run” (Tracey, who was really embracing her lesbian identity)
  * “on my own, here we go” (Theo)
  * “this world is gonna pull through” (Daphne’s choice, and this week’s phrase)



Honestly, the other Houses thought they knew all about Slytherin--but in reality they knew little to nothing. Still, Draco saw the advantages in keeping things that way. The phrase that the Sorting Hat uttered several years ago, and that Astoria repeated recently, echoed through his mind.  _ In Slytherin you’ll make your real friends _ . Cleverest thing that ridiculous talking hat had ever said. 


	15. Astoria part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this work!

**2000**   


At this late hour, Astoria was the only student walking around the castle. She was determined to maximise those Head Girl privileges to the very end. Astoria needed some uninterrupted time to herself, so she made her way to the passage leading to the Hog’s Head. With the cat out of the bag about that entryway, McGonagall had simply drawn an Age Line and allowed all students over seventeen to use it as long as they did so wisely. On nights like these, Astoria never went all the way through to the pub, but instead would sit in the passage and develop brilliant plans or just sulk. Tonight was devoted to the latter.

She had skipped dinner, choosing instead to hide away in her room for most of the evening after having a row with Draco over Floo-call. With trips to Hogsmeade in addition to owls and the Floo Network, the relationship wasn’t completely long-distance but she did miss the close proximity that they enjoyed at school last year. She didn’t ever want to become  _ that _ girl, but Astoria did worry about him. It frustrated her when he would shut down regarding things that were bothering him; Bellatrix had been the Occlumency tutor from hell but certainly was successful. 

Meanwhile in the castle, this school year had been as exciting and challenging as she secretly hoped it would be after finally accepting the Head Girl position, but Salazar it had required stamina. Yes, she had achieved a great deal but even in the last few days there were stresses. The Carrow twins had skulked their way back to the castle for this school term after some time away at Beauxbatons, and neither they nor Millicent Bulstrode’s little brother were interested in any post-war redemption--not for themselves or for Slytherin. They couldn’t be reasoned with, so Astoria had to settle for threats and blackmail to keep them from torpedoing her House’s reputation. Also, a Ravenclaw who lost family in the war decided to start up SPITE: Society for the Prevention of Inheritance-cursed Trollop Egomaniacs, an organisation which took significant efforts to demonstrate how some students still felt about her. At least Astoria could be assured that she was leaving a legacy at this school. 

The call with Draco should have been short and sweet; tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday so there was much to celebrate. But he was in a shit mood and Astoria was exhausted. Draco decided that this would be the perfect time to call her out on her desire to be pulling the strings in (perhaps) far too many situations.

“Like last year, at the Sorting. You lied straight to the girl’s face. You knew that not everyone was over the blood status bigotry,” he argued. 

“It was not a lie; it was a bluff. Not only was it the right thing to do, but it paid dividends.” Courtney was one of their star Slytherins, topping her class first year and coming back in the autumn confident and motivated. Astoria honestly didn’t have to do much; she won the respect of her House on her own. 

“You know I could keep going for days. The Manor, my aunt Andromeda, your sister, the Quidditch team...it never ends.”

“So what?”

“ _ So _ , you want to meddle in everyone else’s affairs so you can get whatever satisfaction you get out of fixing their problems. But there are things in life that can’t be sorted out, Astoria.”

That one cut deep.

“You think I don’t know that? Me, of all people?” she exclaimed.

“Merlin, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry,” he said in a low voice.

“You know what? Maybe I am too invested. This relationship is a prime example. So why don’t you fuck off and get very far away from me and my meddling.” Then she ended the call. 

She was still annoyed with him, mind you, but Astoria regretted that particular sign-off now as she leaned her head against the wall. 

That’s when she realised that she was virtually standing in the same spot where she had stood exactly two years ago. When she told off Slughorn, who was ordering the Slytherins to gather resources and formulate a plan. She simply couldn’t wait that long. Draco was in the castle, and that one variable changed everything for her. 

_ You’ve done well in those two years _ , she told herself. Despite her tendencies toward anxiety and perfectionism, she knew in her heart that she had. She couldn’t single-handedly rid the Wizarding world of all its problems and she never believed that. But she had done what she could, and that counted--that counted a hell of a lot. No matter what anyone else thought. 

The next morning, Astoria walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, and made her way to her usual spot. Merlin, she needed caffeine and quickly. But there was something there. Was it... _ no _ , it couldn’t be...but that’s exactly what it was. Propped up against the table was a brand new Fender Telecaster. She instantly knew who it was from. There was only one person to whom she had described this specific guitar. Reverently, she picked it up, and then nearly dropped the thing out of shock. There was something written in marker on the body of the electric guitar. A signature.  _ Dolores O’Riordan’ _ s signature. 

It was impossible to suppress a scream of excitement. Otherwise speechless, she glanced over to the staff table to see McGonagall coyly smiling down, then tilting her head and winking at her. Astoria didn’t get the message straightaway, but then she turned to her other side. A few feet down the table sat someone with unmistakable blond hair, coolly sipping his tea as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She didn’t know what was more mental about this situation: McGonagall breaking with the rules for a  _ Slytherin _ , or a grand romantic gesture from Draco Malfoy. Astoria cleared her throat, both to get his attention and to somewhat pull herself together. But that was futile once his eyes met hers. 

“Gatecrashing school events again, are we?” she said through tears.

“I had to go see about a Head Girl,” he said, smirking, and Salazar, now he had her openly crying and laughing at the same time. She wondered how long had it taken him to come up with that line.

“You can’t just buy me a guitar every time you screw up, you know?” He took her hand and pulled her closer. He knew just where she was going with that question.

“Yeah, I know. But then, there’s always drums, and bass, and maybe even a tambourine.” 

“And don’t think you can quote lines from popular films every time you--” but she was interrupted by some serious snogging, precisely as she had anticipated. 

It took major resolve to break away, but Astoria had some unfinished business. 

“I have an answer, you know. To that very important question you’ve been wanting to ask me.”

He swallowed nervously. “And what’s that?”

“I think it would be an excellent idea to buy a professional Quidditch team,” she said, managing to keep a straight face for only a second before they both broke into laughter.

Suddenly Astoria didn’t need caffeine as desperately any more, so she picked up her new guitar and walked towards the doors, gesturing for Draco to follow. After giving herself a head start, she called out, “You can ask me properly tonight, at the surprise party I deduced was happening weeks ago. But I’ll let you in on a secret: it’s a resounding yes.”

**2019**

Astoria twisted her wedding ring on her finger; it was now far too loose. The final stage of the blood curse was decimating her, and she knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

Nineteen years later, and it still wasn’t enough time. 

She looked up at the enchanted night sky on the ceiling, lying on the Slytherin table curled up next to her husband. McGonagall had allowed them this one request, for Astoria to spend just a few more hours in the Great Hall.  _ Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home _ .

“We had quite a run, didn’t we?” she said to Draco.

The answer was a resounding yes. 


End file.
